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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528353">Master of the House</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaffrin/pseuds/zaffrin'>zaffrin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Master of the House [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1950s, 1950s housewife, Chameleon Arch (Doctor Who), Dubious Consent, F/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, fifties era, human nature au</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>104,873</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23528353</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaffrin/pseuds/zaffrin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He could have (should have) just made himself a neighbour or friend, someone near by to keep an eye on her - maybe a lodger in the neat little house the Tardis had given her… but the opportunity to take advantage of this ridiculous time period on this stupid planet where everyone was a walking stereotype and have the Doctor - the /Doctor/, great, mighty traveler who was better than everyone and everything else in the universe as his obedient little housewife was just too big a temptation to pass up.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Master of the House [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2046137</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>634</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>IMPORTANT: this is a Thirteen/Master chameleon arch fic wherein the Doctor is turned human whilst the Master keeps his memories, thus, the sexual scenes in this story lean very much into dubious/non consent territory. Listen, he's a bastard and if you don't want to read about him taking full advantage of a mind-wiped human version of the Doctor then please do not read on. It will get better though, so if you do decide to continue please stick with me! ;)</p><p>One more thing before we start I need to mention @koshte, @doctxrwhittaker and @samosevie for the help with this one, for letting me bounce ideas off them AND coming up with some new ones for this story too so they need to take some of the credit! And special shout out to doctxrwhittaker for the perfect title ;)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Glancing over at the dinner table for the umpteenth time that night before looking up at the clock on the wall and noting the late hour with a sigh, Thea Smith marks her page and sets down her book, getting to her feet and padding quietly over to the plate of food long gone cold. She stares down at it with a frown for a moment, contemplating tossing the whole lot in the bin out of spite when she thinks about how long it had taken her to prepare the meal, but deciding she was too tired for the row that would inevitably induce. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She picks it up instead, moving into the kitchen to open the oven and shove it inside, before extinguishing the candle on the table top, and then the lamps in the kitchen and sitting room and making her way upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s another hour at least until she hears the front door open, followed by stomping and clattering around downstairs. Good thing she wasn’t already asleep, she certainly wouldn’t be any longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bedroom door creaks open, and she hears the sound of a coat hitting the chair in the corner before shoes are kicked off, one thud at a time, preceding the rustle of clothing being removed. Thea frowns at the far wall, curled on her side, stubbornly refusing to turn over and offer a greeting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve told you to take your shoes off downstairs,” she chides coldly when the bed creaks behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go on woman,” comes the reply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your dinner’s in the oven,” she says. “Stone cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not hungry.” Thea tenses when her husband shuffles up behind her, an arm sliding round her waist and cool lips pressing to the side of her neck. “Not for dinner, anyway,” he drawls, hips surging forward, letting her feel what he meant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites her lip as she feels him draw her nightdress up over her thighs, bunching it at her waist and taking hold of her hip. He shifts behind her, nudging her leg up a little until he can press into her, and she gasps, her hands curling into the bedsheets as her mouth falls open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it,” he grunts behind her before he starts moving, thrusting into her steadily, a little less gentle than he could be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea lays there quietly in the dark while her husband makes love to her. Is that what this was? It doesn’t feel much like love, she thinks, as he chases his pleasure inside her; it hasn’t for a long while. Had it ever? Thea thinks it must have done, at the beginning, surely. How long ago was that now? How long had they been married? The specifics feel fuzzy, like her life has always been this way and yet she can barely remember it beginning… she’s probably just tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He groans by her ear, hips jerking into her, one hand splayed over her abdomen, pressing down as he thrusts up hard into her and making her gasp again, his body hot where he was slotted against her back, making her nightdress sweaty and rumpled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s sticky and a little achy when he withdraws from inside her when he’s done, rolling away to flop down onto his back. Swallowing, Thea reaches out to grab a handkerchief from her nightstand, wiping gingerly between her legs and wrinkling her nose a bit as she tosses it to the floor to wash in the morning. Cleaning up after him. Sometimes she feels like that seems to be her only purpose in life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” she offers, and gets a grunt in reply, her husband apparently already on the verge of sleep, and Thea curls up tighter on her side, wondering why she feels so numb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor is asleep when the Master wakes early the next morning. Of course she is; he’s barely rested for three hours, and with that primitive human biology she was currently wielding she was likely to need another four or five.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits up, rubbing at his face as he peers down at her for a moment. Short blonde hair tumbled over her face, curled a little at the ends as was the style of this time period. He can see the frilled top of the nightdress she’s wearing above the covers pulled up to her chest. It was bizarre to see her looking so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Feminine. An amused smile twitches at the corners of his mouth and he wishes he had a camera handy to snap a picture. It would undoubtedly provide excellent blackmail material somewhere down the line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving her be, he swings his legs out of bed and rises, yanking on a pair of loose trousers and rummaging through the drawers until he finds a comfortable shirt too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s still dark out, and his stomach rumbles as he pads down the stairs. Remembering her muttering something about dinner as he’d slipped into bed behind her the night before, he rummages in the kitchen until he finds a full plate of food tucked into the oven. He sniffs it. Beef stew and potatoes. Not a dish he imagines will taste great cold, so he turns knobs and hits things until he gets the oven working and shoves it back in, realising he was going to have to wait a good while until it was ready to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He longs for a microwave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stupid tardis. He had no idea why the Doctor was so fond of that infuriating machine of hers, the damn thing was absolutely useless. Dumping them here seventy years early from where they were aiming at the 2020s so he could pawn this temporary, useless version of a human Doctor off on her equally useless human friends until it was time for her to return to herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, it lands them in nineteen fifties England, and promptly fucks off without a trace. Bloody machine. He’d shove a wrench in the time rotar when he got hold of it again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had at least managed to put together some semblance of a period appropriate life and house for the Doctor before it had disappeared, and with nothing else to do, and no way out of this infernal place and time it hadn’t been difficult to fiddle with the circuit in her head and shoehorn himself into that life with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have (should have) just made himself a neighbour or friend, someone near by to keep an eye on her - maybe a lodger in the neat little house the tardis had given her… but the opportunity to take advantage of this ridiculous time period on this stupid planet where everyone was a walking stereotype and have the Doctor - the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor, </span>
  </em>
  <span>great, mighty traveler who was better than everyone and everything else in the universe as his obedient little housewife was just too big a temptation to pass up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d had to find </span>
  <em>
    <span>some way </span>
  </em>
  <span>to entertain himself while he was stuck here anyway. And besides - the fact that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> stuck in this ridiculous situation was entirely the Doctor’s fault in the first place. Fancy getting herself shoved in a judoon prison. Fancy </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> going running when she opened the telepathic link they never broke off on gallifrey to call for help - the opportunity to see her behind bars had apparently been too entertaining a prospect to pass up. And the idea of her owing him one much too delightful to resist breaking her out. It turned out judoon had gotten a lot more adept at tracking down their targets since the last time he’d dealt with them however, and after running the entire length of every known galaxy and time in that awful old banger she called a tardis with her and them </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> being hot on their trail, the chameleon arch had been her last option. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d owe him </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span>, after this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bored with waiting for his food to heat up, the Master wanders from the kitchen to poke around the sitting room, curious about what she’d been up to while he wasn’t around. (‘At work’ as far as she knew, but in reality combing this putrid little town for something he could use to track down her damn blue box - or maybe even find a way back to his own). The room was neat, but only on the surface - when he looked closely he could see that clutter had been shoved in drawers and under cushions, the fireplace hadn’t been swept and there were coffee cup rings on the little table. He’d have to have words with her about that and grins at the thought. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picks up a book that had been set down by the settee, frowning at the front cover. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Engineering of Aviation. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He flicks through it. Boring. Some amusing calculations that were way off, and the odd interesting fact about early human airplanes. Just the kind of thing she loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hides it, instead replacing its position on the coffee table with one from the shelf entitled </span>
  <em>
    <span>How to be a Good Housewife. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He giggles to himself, making his way back to the kitchen to check on his meal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor is terribly cross when she wakes up a few hours later to find one of her best dinner plates cracked in half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was I supposed to know you can’t put plates in the oven - what good is that?” He grunts back irritably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Common sense would tell you Oscar!” She snaps, throwing the broken china into the bin with a little more force than was necessary. The name sounds so foreign on her lips directed at him, it throws him off a bit for a second - she’s only called him ‘O’ since they’d arrived here two days ago, as he had intended for her to do. He hadn’t given much thought to the name, just done a quick search of human names in this particular time period and he’d picked one beginning with O. He’d planted the nickname in the Doctor’s memories, and thinks himself quite clever for it, in an ironic, terribly amusing way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look at the state of the oven,” She fumes, jolting him out of his thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can clean it,” he tells her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing outright. “It’ll give you something to do today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She whirls, hazel eyes flashing with anger. “Something to -!? What, you think I sit around all day - you think the house magically cleans and tidies itself while you’re at work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hilarious, really. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the least domesticated being in the universe, upset over a ruined plate and oven. That thing had really done a number on her head. Oh wait, he thinks smugly - that was him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says as he stands from the kitchen table. “The place is far too much of a mess for me to believe that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can hear her spluttering behind him as he stomps off upstairs to get ready, and grins the whole while he washes and dresses, the odd bang of a cupboard from below lifting his mood each time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wanders back into the kitchen she has her back to him, buttering bread at the counter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances at the empty table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s my lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just making it,” she replies curtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why isn’t it ready?” He delights in demanding. “I’ll be late for work!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - </span>
  <em>
    <span>two minutes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m almost done - I was cleaning up the mess </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> made last night,” she tells him irritably, throwing the butter knife down with a clatter that makes him wince. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so she wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> the subservient little housewife he had hoped for, but he supposes he couldn’t change her actual character with that machine - just all the stuff ingrained in her head. She knew she had to do what he told her, at least, even if she obviously didn’t like it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoves the finished sandwiches along with an apple in a brown paper bag and whirls to hold it out to him, cheeks flushed with annoyance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master reaches out to take it from her, hand brushing her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be home late again?” She asks as she quickly pulls her hand away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dunno,” he answers, before stepping forward and pressing a kiss to her cheek, the charade privately amusing him greatly. He turns to leave with his lunch and briefcase and pauses in the doorway, glancing over at her. “Tidy this place up while I’m gone today, the sitting room is a mess,” he tells her, and she hesitates before dropping her gaze and nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master is still grinning as he walks out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It takes Thea over an hour to clean the oven, with the splattered remnants of last night’s dinner all over the sides and shelves. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Idiot man</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks as she scrubs at it furiously. What kind of an imbecile puts a china dinner plate in a hot oven? She’s a little sweaty by the time she’s done, sitting back on her heels on the floor in front of it and wiping the back of her arm over her forehead, admiring her work. The apron she’d tied over her pale blue dress is stained, and a few strands of hair have come loose from the rag she’d tied around it to keep it off her face as she worked. Yanking off her rubber gloves, Thea reaches up to tuck her hair back in before she smooths her hands over her rumpled skirts. She can’t help but feel like what she’s wearing is rather impractical for such household chores, and longs for some loose trousers and a comfortable shirt. She gives herself a shake, wondering where the random thought had come from. She doesn’t think she’s ever worn a pair of trousers in her life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Turning her attention back to her finished work, she runs a finger along the sparkling metal shelf of the oven, satisfied when it comes away clean and grease free. Much better. She’d just have to keep that idiotic husband of hers away from it - not that O would listen to anything she told him. She’s half a mind to install a lock of some sort on the door, and wonders why nobody’s thought of that before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea tilts her head, biting her lip contemplatively. It would be safer, wouldn’t it? And maybe she’d have a quick fiddle with the settings while she was at it - she’d noticed it cooking slower on the left than the right of late, and resolved, wanders off to find where Oscar keeps his toolbox.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour and a half later, Thea has an oven that not only has a lockable door, but heats up evenly, has fifteen different settings, two extra shelves and can cook a casserole in twenty minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay so the radio was now in bits and pieces since she’d had to borrow a couple of components and she’d have to hide that before O came home, but Thea thinks her improved oven is better than the radio anyway. It only ever spouted nonsense and she hates the music from this time period too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Halfway to the shed with the remnants of the radio in her arms, she pauses, turning that thought over in her head. “This time period…” she repeats herself. “Of course the music’s from this time period - what other sort of music are you thinking about?… Thea you are overtired,” she mutters, shaking her head and carrying on down the little garden path.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stuffs the dismantled radio in behind some paint cans in the back of the shed, and turns to leave when she spots a book shoved onto a shelf in between two tin boxes that’s decidedly less dusty than everything else in here. Dragging over a can to stand on, she stretches up and grabs it down, blinking at the cover in confusion when she discovers it’s the one she’d been reading just yesterday. She hurries back to the house with it to check where she’d left it beside the settee, certain she wasn’t losing her mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is definitely not a duplicate copy of it, instead another book sits in its place and Thea lifts it, reading the title before dropping her arms back down with it in irritation.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How to be a Good Housewife</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny, </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t he? It’s a good thing she’d happened to go down the shed, otherwise she would never have found the book she’d been halfway through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she mutters, strolling across the room with the offending item in hand, “because how to be your </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife </span>
  </em>
  <span>is clearly the only worthwhile goal in my life.” She chucks it in the fireplace, brushing her hands off and giving herself a firm nod.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you been doing today?” Oscar asks her over dinner that night. He’d come home on time, at least, which had made it a little easier for Thea to force a smile in greeting and take his coat and hat, hanging them up as he sat down to the hot meal she’d cooked for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This and that,” she hedges. “I tidied.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you? I didn’t notice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea glares at him across the table until he glances up and raises his eyebrows and she drops her gaze to her dinner plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” She changes the subject. “How was work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he answers shortly, and there’s a pause before he continues. “Actually, my back is killing me from being bent over that damn desk all day. I need you to rub it for me after dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course darling,” she answers absently, and misses the amused smirk that graces his face as she pushes vegetables around on her plate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An hour later, after she’d cleared away the dinner things, washed and dried up and re-stoked the fire, Thea is perched on the arm of O’s chair as he appraises a book, her small fingers kneading into his shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s funny?” She asks curiously. She’s peeking at the pages over his shoulder; some novel set in victorian times where everybody seems to keep winding up dead. Not exactly amusing content. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he replies, visibly forcing his face straight. “Just… tickles a bit.” He shrugs a shoulder and she eases off on the pressure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I’ll stop if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he answers quickly, catching her hand before she can move away. He tugs and she settles back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s tense beneath her touch, shoulders tight and knotted, and muscles taut when she pushes a small hand down the back of his shirt to work at it a little lower down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This would be easier with your shirt off,” she muses. “And maybe lying down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause before Oscar snaps his book shut and tosses it to the coffee table. He gets to his feet, downing the glass of brandy in his hand before he sets that down too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, are you coming?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea blinks at him. “Where?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs. You did just suggest it dear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she replies. She gets to her feet. “Yeah - yes I suppose I did. Go on up then, I’ll turn everything off,” she tells him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her husband nods and moves towards the stairs. He pauses as he passes by the fire, staring at it a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a book in the fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she replies evenly, perfect poker face in place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why… is there a book in the fire?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “Don’t we have -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on darling,” she moves over to him, nudging him gently towards the stairs. “I’ll take care of everything down here, go make yourself comfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks like he’s going to argue for a moment, before turning with a roll of his eyes and shake of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Don’t be long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea puts out the fire and takes her time extinguishing all the lamps and tidying the sitting room up. Oscar is sitting on the bed with his feet crossed at the ankles, clad in pair of loose fitting pyjamas when she lets herself into their bedroom, turning to close the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walks up behind her, hand on her waist to keep her back turned to him as his hands go to the buttons on the back of hers dress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks,” she mumbles when it’s loose, shrugging it from her shoulders. She steps out of it, picking it up and laying it out carefully on a chair so it doesn’t crease, padding over to her cupboard to retrieve a nightgown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leave it,” comes her husband’s voice, and Thea pauses, glancing at him in surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He drags his gaze lazily over her, taking in her lace bra and satin underwear, the suspenders holding her stockings up. He is smirking when he gets back to her face. “I like you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She huffs, shaking her head and rolling her eyes a little as she gives a chuckle, wandering over to their bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” she says. “You gonna lay down so I can get to your back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yanks his shirt off, dropping it carelessly to the floor and bouncing up onto the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful O,” Thea chastises as she settles next to him, “You’ll knacker the springs leaping on it like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never complain when I’m throwing you on it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her cheeks flush a bit. “Don’t know what you mean,” she mutters, reaching out and placing her hands flat on his bare back. He’s still tense beneath her touch - very tense - and Thea wonders at that as she works at teasing out all the knots in his muscles. She knows his back must get stiff from sitting at a desk all day, but it feels like he’s also tensing up more beneath her touch. Almost like he’s wary or unfamiliar with her hands on him… which is ridiculous. She’s his wife. They’ve been married for… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long was it now? She’s certain that information should be to hand, yet Thea cannot recall. One was supposed to remember important dates like their wedding day, weren’t they? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling,” she hedges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” he grunts in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How... long have we been married again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That tension increases tenfold beneath her hands and she realises he might be angry at her for having to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No - no I can. Of course I can. I just… can’t recall right now. I think I’m tired this week… and last week, maybe. What month is it again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause. “April.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, yeah,” she nods. Of course it was. “Of course it is. April, nineteen…” She pauses, hands freezing on his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea?” She hears him ask after a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What year is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another pause, before O rolls over to sit up on the bed, frowning at her. “It’s nineteen fifty-three love,” he says, reaching out and placing a hand on her forehead. “Are you well? Maybe you’re coming down with something - you do feel warm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I?” She lifts her own hand to her head when he drops his. She feels normal to herself, but perhaps if her body temperature has risen she just can’t tell with her own hand. Her head had been feeling… fuzzy, of late. She felt weird, like it was difficult to recall particulars - as if something was a little off. She gives herself a small shake. “Probably too long bent over inside the oven earlier. It took forever to get all that mess cleaned off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t comment on that, clambering out of bed and moving across to the drawers along the wall. Taking out a nightdress, he tosses it at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should get some rest,” he tells her. “I might go downstairs for another brandy, not really that tired yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, nodding as she fiddles with the nightdress. “Okay. Is your back alright now?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“It’s fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea nods. “Goodnight darling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not until the door has closed behind him, and she’s quietly got changed into her nightclothes and settled down beneath the covers that she realises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He never did answer her about how long they’d been married. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master remains downstairs for a good few hours, wanting to be certain the Doctor was asleep by the time he joined her again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what had got her thinking about things like dates and timespans, but he’d quite like to avoid any more of those questions. The less details a lie held the easier it was to keep up, after all. He wasn’t an amature at creating false lives - although this one was proving more trying to keep up than he had anticipated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always hated Earth, but this particular time period was making it absolutely unbearable to be stuck here, and the fact that he was trapped with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> ten times worse. To make matters worse</span>
  <em>
    <span> still</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tomorrow is Saturday, and the Master is now dreading having to spend the entire weekend cooped up with the Doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Quite honestly, he’d expected to have found a way out of here by now, and hadn’t planned for having to spend significant amounts of time together alone with her. He was and always had been adept at playing a role, acting when he had to, but everything that had happened between them on gallifrey was still so fresh in his mind. All that he had learnt about her - the… </span>
  <em>
    <span>infuriating, </span>
  </em>
  <span>arrogant way (and not at all how he had planned) she had reacted to finally learning it too - topped off by her failing to press that damn button and just putting them both out of their misery - meant it was proving a struggle having to pretend he didn’t want to rip her apart with his bare hands every time he looked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, when he’s tired of drinking the bitter tasting, amber coloured stuff that passed for alcohol on this wretched planet, the Master leaves his glass, bottle and extinguished cigar on the table for her to clear away in the morning and trudges back upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He steps into the bedroom and closes the door behind him, ready to wander over and flop down on the bed to pass out for a few hours, when the sight in front of him makes him stop dead, startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor is on her back, head tossing from side to side on the pillow, face scrunched up in a deep frown and hands twisted in the bedsheets as she thrashes. She’s sweating, he notices when he takes a cautious step closer, and making quiet little whimpers in her sleep, distress painted all over her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A nightmare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was having a nightmare, he realises. The Master falters, considering turning around and leaving her to it, no interest in dealing with the Doctor’s demons (he had enough of his own), and is just about to do so when she gives a particularly loud cry of alarm and suddenly surges upright, eyes blinking open as she gasps, looking around in a panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wh-who are you!?” She exclaims, wide-eyed gaze landing on him hovering by the doorway. “Get away from me!” She scrambles backwards in her bed, dragging her duvet with her, hand flying out to grope for something on the nightstand, and before she can close her hand around anything heavy and hurl it at him, the Master gives himself a shake and hurriedly crosses the floor to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea,” he says, reaching out and taking hold of her shoulders as she gives a yelp, “Thea, it’s me. It’s O. Your husband.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...O?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says, “It’s just me. You were having a nightmare.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she repeats, the wild glint in her eyes starting to dim as he feels her relax a little beneath his hands. “O - of course it is. Of course it’s you… - sorry, I didn’t - it’s dark - I just saw a figure by the door and I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” he says gruffly. “Uh… you good now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping her gaze, still panting, Thea nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Releasing her shoulders, he steps back with a nod of his own, turning to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait! What - where are you going?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>He pauses, glancing round at her, still huddled up in the corner of the bed, sheets clutched to her, damp hair stuck to her forehead. She looks pathetic, he thinks, and strangely finds that fills him with more disgust than glee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not that tired yet. Just came up to check on you - I could hear you crying out downstairs,” he lies smoothly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, and appears to hesitate, brow furrowed in anxiousness as she licks her lips. “Well would you - would you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep again,” she quickly says. “I’m sorry, it’s just… that dream…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master hesitates, watching her warily. Comforting the Doctor after nightmares was the absolute last thing he ever wanted to do - particularly because he was aware he was more than likely the source of a good chunk of them - and pleased about it too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please darling,” this pathetic, weak version of the Doctor whispers, and realising he had a part to play if he didn’t want her getting suspicious - especially when she had already been asking about dates earlier that night - the Master sighs, and nudges at her to move her over so he can slip into bed beside her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she says as he settles down next to her. “It’s just… it was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t ask her what her nightmare was about. It could be any number of things; horrors and visions leaked through from her other life (lives) - and this version of her wouldn’t understand any of it, which undoubtedly would make it all the more frightening for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go back to sleep,” he grunts after a pause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor nods, and sheets rustle as she inches a little closer to him, curled onto her side towards him, and he thinks for one awful, terrifying second that she’s going to try and </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuddle him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and his eyes go wide as he stares up at the ceiling in alarm, before she tucks one small hand around his arm and settles down on her side facing him like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks as he looks up at the dark ceiling, trying not to hyperfocus on the gentle touch against his arm as he listens to her breathing. At least she hadn’t curled right into him. He just had to wait until she fell asleep, then he could pry her off and roll away to get some rest of his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes a small sound, inching a bit closer, and the Master freezes a bit when he feels the press of her nose against his shoulder. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If she could see herself now, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks, with wry amusement. How ironic it was that she was seeking comfort after her nightmares from </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the bringer of them, totally unaware that she was trapped in another one of his invention right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breathing eventually evens out, and she snuggles in slightly closer to him in her sleep, making a small sound that did something funny to his insides. Disgust again, probably. She was so damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>pathetic</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually the Master falls asleep too, trying not to focus on the feel of that warm arm tucked snugly around his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for the lovely response to chapter one! I got 6 ‘he’s a bastard’s so I’m considering that a success ;) 😂 Please drop me a comment and let me know what you think of part 2! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy sunday! Huge thanks for the love on this one so far! Just a note to reiterate the tags and warnings: this fic contains sexual scenes of dubious/ leaning towards non consent, please read with caution or avoid if you're likely to be triggered.  Please do not disregard the warnings and read it anyway then come at me in the comments, thank you!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When the Master trudges downstairs the next morning, drawn from beneath the covers by the smell of bacon, there’s a full english breakfast laid out on the table and a smiling Doctor glancing over at him as she sets down two steaming mugs of tea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning darling,” she greets, motioning to a chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in a good mood,” he comments, a little suspicious as he crosses the room and sits down. She takes her apron from around her waist, laying it over the back of her chair and smoothing her hands over her dress before she sits down opposite him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always in a good mood,” she replies breezily, reaching for her knife and fork. “Did you sleep well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” He glances up, watching her face with a hidden smirk. “Did you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hand pauses on the way to her mouth with a fork full of egg, and she lifts her gaze to him, presumably to try and gauge if he’s teasing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - right!” He makes a show of saying, snapping his fingers. “Sorry, I forgot about your bad dreams,” he tells her, certain they were a little more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad dreams</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and privately amused greatly by the way she flinches. She drops her gaze, nodding. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d rather not discuss them, if that’s alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suit yourself,” he shrugs. “Could you pass the salt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After breakfast he lets her tidy away while he opens the newspaper and finishes his tea. Mundane drivel - although there is an uplifting story on page two about a murder that took place two nights ago in a nearby town. They found the body in the river, and two men were seen skulking around down by the riverbank at dawn, later identified when they returned to the scene of the crime to collect the murder weapon one had left lying nearby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amatures,” he scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s that dear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glances up as the Doctor leans over him to wipe the table clean. He clears his throat. “Nothing. His eyes fall to her chest as she scrubs at a spillage near his elbow, visible down the front of her dress at this angle, soft breasts bouncing a little with her movements and he finds himself smirking. What a picture she made. He was going to have endless fun teasing her about all this when she got back to her usual self. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says suddenly. “I meant to say - we’re almost out of firewood. Could you chop some more?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” He frowns, lowering his paper. “Why can’t you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor pauses, turning to look at him oddly. “Me - using that big heavy axe of yours to chop wood? I’d never manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master is left blinking after her as she disappears back into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew for a fact that wasn’t true - she was just as strong physically as him, always had been no matter what form she was in. And he’d felt the strength of </span>
  <em>
    <span>this one</span>
  </em>
  <span> quite intimately when she’d shoved him to the ground atop a hill, matrix or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you could do it this morning please love that would be good!” She calls out, and the Master gives a great huff and tosses down his paper, getting to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to find a way out of here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor is still cleaning when he comes in from the garden with arms full of firewood some time later. He’s sweating, the early spring sun still just about warm outside, but that plus the exertion enough to overheat him, and he’s undone his waistcoat, shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The Master is not used to physical labour - he’s never seen the point, prefering to make somebody else do it for him whenever he finds it necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stomps past the Doctor in the kitchen and dumps it all in the stupid little basket by the ridiculous little fireplace, and stands straight, wiping a hand over his forehead, and thiking it ironic that his back really </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurting now after pretending the night before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here you go darling,” he hears a voice to his right, and is surprised to turn and find the Doctor pressing a cool glass of lemonade into his hands with a smile. She disappears back into the kitchen and he’s left staring after her, blinking down at the drink in his hand and trying not to think about how bizarrely thoughtful that was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well - yes. So she should be catering for all his needs - that was the purpose of this whole charade, was it not? She was just doing exactly what she was supposed to as his doting little wife. Good, he thinks, and takes a sip of perfectly cool lemonade. It’s fresh, and homemade - she must have pressed the lemons whilst he was out chopping wood. Well. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With nothing better to do in this infernal prison, the Master goes back to reading the newspaper, scoffing at the monotonous little stories that passed as </span>
  <em>
    <span>news</span>
  </em>
  <span> in this time period. The adverts peppered throughout were quite entertaining though, and has a good giggle at one for coffee, picturing a shocked wife over her husband’s knee whilst the caption claims she’d be in trouble if her spouse found out the coffee wasn’t real. He carefully rips that one out, slipping it into the book the Doctor had been reading for her to find next time she opened it and giggling to himself a bit more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’s exhausted the reading, and amused himself enough by methodically un-tidying the sitting room enough to irritate her but not look deliberate enough for her to be able to chastise him for it, he goes looking for the Doctor herself to bait instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s cleaning the countertops when he wanders into the kitchen, and he pauses and leans against the doorframe, delighting in watching her for a moment with her unaware of him being there. None of those irritating senses of hers to tingle and alert her of his presence now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” She jumps when she turns to rinse out her cloth and holds a hand to her chest. “O. You scared me darling,” she says, moving over to the sink. “Did you need something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he considers, watching as she rings out the cloth, and leans forward a little to scrub at the taps. His dark gaze rakes over her, taking in the swish of her skirt as she moves, the tension in her muscles when she leans in to rub at a particularly stubborn stain on the sink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t been what he’d thought when he came looking for her, but he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>bored</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she’s here, and the thrill of the Doctor doing everything he asks is still new enough to excite him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He wonders...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances over at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come </span>
  <em>
    <span>here,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he repeats, snagging her hand and tugging at her, yanking her round in front of him, her back to his front and caging her in against the counter with his hands braced either side of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh,” he breathes into her hair, “I want you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels her tense in his arms, hears her swallow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now?” She says. “I’m - we’re in the kitchen-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… did - do you wanna go upstairs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s my name,” he smirks into the side of her neck, opening his mouth to bite down softly on her flesh. She gasps - she makes such pretty sounds like this, he’d come to discover, and revels in drawing as many of them out of her as he can, laving his tongue over her skin as he lifts the skirt of her dress up her legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this hygienic?” He hears her ask as he drags her underwear down, and rolls his eyes behind her. “This is - where I make - ah! Food, after all,” she rambles, the Master smiling as her voice goes higher pitched with his fingers between her legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can clean it,” he tells her gleefully, and pushes between her shoulder blades with his other hand. “Now be a good girl and bend over for your m- </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>His hearts quicken a bit at what almost tumbled from his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels her resist as he pushes at her, and there’s a pause before she whirls in his arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling, shouldn’t we just go upstairs?” She tries, lifting a hand to his cheek. He grabs at it, pulling it away by her wrist and spinning her back round. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he repeats, hips surging forward to let her feel his arousal against her backside. “You’re not refusing your husband are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hesitates. “No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Then do as you’re told and let me have you </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he growls into her hair. He feels her shudder a bit, and knows despite her protests, his tone is exciting her - he’s always been able to affect her in this way, no matter what bodies they’ve both been in - and apparently, whether she remembers who they both are or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles when she reaches down after a pause and quickly bundles her dress back up where it had fallen, lifting the skirts around her waist and leaning forward, forearms going to the countertop to balance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good girl,” he praises gleefully, unbuttoning himself and shoving his own trousers down, taking his cock in hand and shifting behind her to line himself up before pressing into her. “Isn’t it so much better when you do as I say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes dear,” she murmurs quietly as he starts fucking her steadily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks down at her as he pumps in and out of her, watching where he disappears inside her, feeling the wetness between them. His eyes roam over her bare bottom, where her skirts are bunched up around her hips and glance up over her arched back. She makes such a pretty picture like this, he can’t help but think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze lingers on the tiny dip in her waist where the dress cinched her in… she was so small in this form already, and it was quite bizarre to have such a petit, feminine version of the Doctor beneath his hands. She looked as though he could snap her in half if he wanted to but he knew - this appearance was deceiving. This wasn’t really some weak insignificant human woman, this was one of the most powerful forces in the universe, and quite probably an immortal too. She was greater than he - more in every way, and the thought makes him revel just a little more in having her like this in this moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grasps her hips in his hands, and shifts his feet apart a bit to better brace himself before driving harder into her. When she gasps and collapses forward a bit more, flinging a hand out to grasp the opposite side of the counter for purchase, he smiles sadistically, rejoicing in the high pitched noises she starts to make, gleeful in reducing the great and mighty Doctor down to </span>
  <em>
    <span>this. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“O,” she gasps, and he doesn’t know if she’s saying his name or it’s just exclamation, but he digs his nails into her hips through the bunched up material all the same, dragging her back down towards him, pulling himself deeper inside her body and reveling in the noise she makes in response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good girl,” he says again, because it amuses him to patronise her so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O!” She repeats, definitely his name this time, an edge of urgency to her words that belied how much she was enjoying this despite the twinge of pain he hears there also as he fucks her roughly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yess,” he hisses in response. It feels so good, fucking her like this, having the Doctor bent over for him, pliant and submissive in a way she’d never been, even when they’d played at such dynamics as the Doctor and the Master. She’s taking all he gives her, but he wants to see her undone, craves to watch her tremble and break apart beneath him, giving herself over completely to the pleasures he can force from her without knowing it was her greatest nemesis she was letting do so. He shoves a hand round between her legs, fumbling to get the mass of skirts out the way until his fingers slide into slick heat. He presses up with his hand, forcing her legs a bit further apart as she gives a gasp and he feels her grow wetter beneath his touch, coating his hand in her pleasure. It’s an awkward angle but he manages, rubbing at her clit furiously as thrusts in and out of her, and in no time at all she is giving a shout, other hand flying out to the counter edge too, her stomach flat against it as she drops her head down to the surface top and moans and moans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wraps his hands round that tiny waist of hers that’s been driving him mad, and uses the leverage to thrust fast and hard into her, chasing his own release in her trembling body until he comes with a nonsensical shout that was very nearly ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor’. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit flushed from the accidental blunder he’d almost made, hes thankful she seems to be dazed enough not to have noticed, and they’re both still panting when he eases out of her and steps back, reaching down to pull his clothes back together as the Doctor pushes herself upright and does the same. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hands smoothing down her skirts, she turns, leaning back against the counter as she looks at him a moment, cheeks flushed and eyes searching his, and he frowns at the intent look on her face. The Master is just about to open his mouth to ask her what she was looking at when she utterly surprises him by stepping forward and leaning up to press her lips to his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is the first time they have kissed like this, since they’ve been here - and it takes him by such surprise that The Master is so stunned he doesn’t react for a moment, and the Doctor lingers there, her lips warm and soft against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she presses in a bit further, all small curves up against him, and loops an arm up around his neck he jerks back into action, hands lifting to rest instinctively on her waist, still a bit stunned, as her lips move against his. She gives a small sound into the kiss, a quiet little moan, the noise both needy and content at the same time, and when the kiss finally ends and she pulls back, the Master can only stare at her, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor drops her arm, stepping back to smooth her hands over her dress again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” she says as she lifts a hand to fiddle with her hair, tucking an errant curl behind her ear. “I was thinking - I thought it might be nice to take a picnic out to the park later. It’s such a lovely day?” She tilts her head at him. “Darling?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” the Master gives himself a shake, realising he’d been staring at her with his mouth open. “Yes - sure,” he manages, clearing his throat. “That sounds fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him before muttering something about going upstairs to clean up and disappearing, and the Master has to step back, leaning against the kitchen counter for purchase as he stares after her for a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d kissed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t like they hadn’t kissed before, but that was certainly the first time she’d initiated one between them in… </span>
  <em>
    <span>centuries, </span>
  </em>
  <span>at least. And kissing the Doctor had never been like that, all soft lips and gentle pressure against his own, lingering… </span>
  <em>
    <span>affectionate.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Kissing her (him), was always all fire and hatred, rough lips and clashing teeth and possession, and obsession and </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> that they both hated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must be all that stuff in her head - it’d made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft, </span>
  </em>
  <span>made her lose her sense of self, turned her into a pale imitation of some dumb human woman. A woman who let her husband push her around and offered only sweet kisses in retaliation. He scoffs, shaking his head to think of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But still… his fingers drift up to his lips, still tingling from the press of her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was still </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> beneath everything after all. Was this what she was like when the hard shell she usually had up around him wasn’t there? Would this be how she’d kiss him in a world where they didn’t hate each other? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet when he strolls with her to the park a couple of hours later, her small hand tucked into his arm, and he sits on the blanket she throws down on the ground when she finds a suitable spot. He watches her set out the food she’d packed quietly, trying to reconcile this softer, calmer woman, content to hum softly as she spreads out sandwiches and pours drinks from a flask with the erratic, scattered idiot he’d known all his two thousand years of life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It must just be the stuff in her head, he decides for the second time that day as he takes the little cut sandwich she offers him, and watches her bite into her own. All that nonsense he’d put in there, the ridiculous values of this stupid time period and false memories of being his doting wife. But after a little while her eyes light up when she sees a particularly brightly coloured butterfly fly past and she’s up, taking off after it with eyes wide with fascination and he can’t help but think that this might be what she was truly like, without all the darkness surrounding her… - </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he corrects. Himself. This might be what she was like when </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> wasn’t around, this woman far closer to the upbeat, bubbly person he had met whilst masquerading as agent O before, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lysandra coridon,” she announces as she returns to plop back down beside him, skirts fanning out around her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks at her. “Pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That butterfly. Also known as a chalkhill blue.” She frowns, her face scrunching up. “I don’t know how I know that.” She shrugs, reaching for another cake. “Must have read a book some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at her for a moment, before giving himself a little shake and grabbing another cake for himself too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t go running around like a child like that. People will think you uncouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently happy enough not to be phased by his chiding this afternoon, she leans back on her hands, tilting her head up to the sun. “Yes dear,” she answers easily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master sighs, grabbing his drink and wondering why he was wishing she would argue back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter and hope everybody has a lovely Easter Sunday if you celebrate it. Comments mean the world to me!! &lt;3</p><p>Oh and that advert mentioned is/was real! Here if you're curious: https://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2012/12/30/article-0-16B0E78E000005DC-570_964x852.jpg</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a warning that there is an intense scene very briefly described at the very end of this chapter that leans heavily into non-con territory, although consent is previously given. Just want to give a heads up so that last section can be skipped if you need to.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The picnic basket slung over her arm, Thea chatters on about the weather as they stroll home from the park. The sun is still shining, and O had agreed surprisingly easily when she’d suggested going home a different, longer route to make the most of the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t say much in response, just the odd comment or hum of agreement, and Thea can’t decide if he’s always this quiet or if his lack of participation in the conversation was unusual. Sometimes she feels like she barely knows her husband, despite being married to him for however many years. (How many years?) He is an enigma, and she wonders if he’s always felt so to her - she feels like she </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> know him, there was something deep in her soul that felt familiar whenever he was around, but he’d been so withdrawn and moody of late. She’s sure he wasn’t always like this - certain in fact that he used to be just as chatty as her when they were children, bright and lively and full of the wonders of life just like she. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She falters, halting abruptly mid-sentence to mull that thought over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they were children. Yes - of course. They’d known each other for years hadn’t they? They used to be friends when they were young, and Thea grasps at a distant memory of playing out on the cobbled street where she grew up with O, staying outside until the sun started to set and her mother would call her in. Another one - of her and O slipping out of the gates at the edge of the school playground and racing off, hiding down alleyways giggling with each other when their teacher came out after them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels an elbow in her side and turns to blink at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she says, realising she’d stopped talking and never resumed. “I was just thinking…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” she says, and smiles. “And me. - When we were children. We had some good times, didn’t we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a stiff pause before he answers. “Yes. We did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives him another smile, leaning into him. “Remember when you stole that tricycle? From that kid who lived down the road - what was his name…” she scrunches her brow up, trying to think, and shakes her head. “It’ll come to me. Anyway - I told you not to take it because you didn’t know how to ride properly but you didn’t listen and crashed it into the milkman’s cart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could so drive -</span>
  <em>
    <span> ride</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he mutters. “That cart was in my way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were furious.” She smiles, thinking of his scraped knee and elbow, and how she’d had to clean him up and help dispose of the busted up tricycle in secret.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were more furious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell you</span>
  </em>
  <span> not to take it. You never listened to me. Still don’t,” she can’t help but add, and when he doesn’t reply after a moment, she looks round to see him glaring at her with a less than amused expression.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she mumbles, looking away, and feels his arm tense beneath her hand. He leans in a little to press his next words against her hair; “Do I need to remind you who your husband is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she replies, and can’t help but add a little snidely, “I think you already did that quite thoroughly this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t reply to that, and she thinks she’s got away with her cheek, when they stroll past a tiny alleyway between two houses a moment or so later and there’s a sudden yank on her arm, giving her such a start she almost drops the picnic basket as she finds herself dragged down the dark gap and crowded up against the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll do it again now if it’s needed,” he growls at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea’s breath catches a little in her throat. “You wouldn’t,” she brushes off his comment as a joke, giving a nervous puff of laughter, but her heart beats fast as O pins her there, staring into her eyes with those dark ones of his and she realises that she doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> whether he really would or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallows. “O…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her for another moment before his face breaks into a grin and he chuckles, stepping back from her and letting her exhale shakily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on!” He says, bright tone jarring after the way he’d just been staring at her. “We should get back.”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Thea brushes slightly shaky hands over herself, setting the picnic basket more securely over her arm and stepping out of the dark alleyway into the light, jogging a little to fall back into step beside her husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t very nice, darling,” she chides quietly, slipping her hand back through his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t meant to be,” he answers shortly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it wasn’t funny either,” she says primly, and O doesn’t reply, just gives her a half-smirked glance and continues walking as if nothing had occurred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d surely been joking - but Thea is a little startled to realise that she doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she doesn’t know how much she trusts him; he is unpredictable, and it confuses her to realise such  a thing about a man she’d literally known since childhood. She wonders when he had changed, and wonders further that she’d never thought on it before. Or had she? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She and Oscar had lost touch throughout their teenage years, he’d gone off… oh, somewhere. And when he returned they were both grown up and… well. They’d got married, she supposed. It’s all a little fuzzy. Odd, she thinks, how her childhood memories are more vivid than those.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stroll the length of another street without speaking a word, and Thea is just about to open her mouth to start chatting about something to fill the cold silence between them, when they round the corner and she stops dead in her tracks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea?” She can vaguely hear her husband calling her name and is aware of a tugging on her arm, but she’s rooted to the spot, staring with wide eyes across the street at the big blue police box nestled on the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea!” She hears O snap again. “What are you -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cuts off, and then he’s round in front of her, his face suddenly blocking her line of sight. She blinks, giving a little jerk as her eyes focus on his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… sorry. I just…” her head moves to the side, eyes gravitating over to the blue box on the corner again as if by some magnetic pull. Oscar’s hand comes to her cheek and forces her gaze back to his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea,” he says sternly, “what’s wrong with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives herself another little shake. “Sorry,” she repeats, suddenly finding her breath coming out short. She feels all funny inside - tingly, her chest tight and she doesn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>why. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Has that always been there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That -“ she tries to crane her neck around him to look again but he doesn’t let her. “The police box… I’ve never noticed it before…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O looks behind himself across the road before he frowns back at her. “Of course it has. Come on, we should get home - you’ve probably had too much sun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods but her legs don’t seem to move when he tugs at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea,” he snaps impatiently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she says again, tugging her arm free. “I’m just…” her legs are taking her across the street towards the box before she can stop herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea, what are you doing!?” O is saying irritably, jogging after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to see,” she says, eyes fixed on the box.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” She’s moving faster, her husband’s annoyed voice fading into the background as everything focuses on that blue box - and she’s so close now - right up in front of it and her arm is reaching out and she’s grasping the handle - and Thea feels herself take a deep breath, heart pounding, and pulls it open - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. She blinks at the little interior. Four walls. A telephone. Nothing else. Thea stands staring at it, unable to understand why she felt strangely disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a police box,” she hears O snap from behind her. “There’s one on almost every other corner around here. I don’t know what’s gotten into you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Thea nods, “Of course it is.” Of course. She steps back, letting the door swing shut, and staring at it for a beat. It felt… </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But she can’t explain it, nor can she understand the sinking in her stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stares at the closed doors, and can’t help but think that it’s the wrong shade of blue - and what a bizarre thought? What shade of blue </span>
  <em>
    <span>should</span>
  </em>
  <span> it be? It was just a police box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now unless you’re planning on calling the police, shall we go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea feels her husband take her arm, his hand like a vice around it - angry. Of course he was. She’d acted like a madwoman, running across the street like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says, giving herself a shake and turning to face him. “Of course - sorry. You’re right - I think I’ve just had too much sun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walk the rest of the way home in silence, and to Thea's surprise, he doesn’t interrogate her about the way she’d behaved with that police box when they get inside - he doesn’t even bring it up again, skulking off upstairs without a word and leaving her alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She supposes she had better get dinner started, and whilst she’s glad of something to do to keep her busy, the task doesn’t occupy her mind enough to stop it drifting back, over and over again to that deep blue police box sitting on the street corner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar is still quiet throughout dinner, barely responding to her attempts at small talk over the table, and after, when she’s cleared away and they sit by the fire with a book each she can’t get a conversation out of him then either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first she thinks he’s annoyed with her for the incident with the police box that afternoon, but he grunts a quick, “just forget about it,” when she brings it up to apologise again, and when she thinks about it, O had been quiet before that, throughout their picnic too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps he just wasn’t feeling quite himself today either. - Maybe they both had a touch of something putting them under the weather. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea is perched on the bed in her undergarments pulling pins out of her hair later that night as she readies for bed when her husband walks in, undressing quickly and sitting down on the other side of the bed, swinging his legs up. He reaches over to pluck at the silk drawers she’s wearing. “Take those off,” he tells her brusquely whilst he lifts his hips and slides his own underwear down his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea feels her heart sink a little - she’d been hoping that since they’d already - </span>
  <em>
    <span>well. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Since her husband had </span>
  <em>
    <span>had her</span>
  </em>
  <span> earlier that day that he wouldn’t want to make love again tonight. That encounter was still buzzing in her head; the way he’d touched her, the way he’d made her whole body convulse with pleasure as she’d laid sprawled over the countertop with her dress round her waist and her knickers down her thighs... the more Thea thinks about it, the more startled she is to realise how much she’d liked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s certain she and O must have made love like that before - they must have. But all she can recall when she tries are vague memories of lying beneath him, of the bed creaking as he took what he wanted from her, and a dull sense of knowing it was his right to do so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to make of it. She’s not naive - she knows what the flash of absolute pleasure she’d experienced that had turned her insides to jelly was, and Thea is </span>
  <em>
    <span>certain</span>
  </em>
  <span> she must have felt it before… but it had felt vaguely familiar and yet at the same time alarmingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she doesn’t understand why. Perhaps she just hadn’t experienced it often enough to be used to such sensations. It had made her feel out of control, and the way her body shook and contracted had been alarming in its unfamiliarity, and Thea doesn’t like things that are new and unexpected, and she doesn’t like feeling out of control either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her underwear discarded, O reaches over and pushes her down to get on top of her, settling between her thighs and bracing himself over her on hands either side of her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea swallows as she feels him shift his hips, his cock brushing between her legs and his eyes dark as he looks down at her. She feels her body react with a shock of arousal when he grinds against her, and Thea wishes she had more time to process these intense sensations that are making her feel off-kilter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O,” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you… can you go slow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns down at her. “Why?” He grunts, and she feels her cheeks flush, turning her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just… you know, earlier. It was a lot, and I just…” She trails off, not really knowing how to explain and wishing she hadn’t started. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares down at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t that rough with you was I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she shakes her head, still avoiding his eyes. “It was fine, I’m just… please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what, and appears a little frozen above her for a moment, so Thea takes the initiative and slides her arms up round the back of his neck, tilting her chin up and pulling him down for a soft kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets his lips touch hers, and is still there a moment, before she moves her lips gently against his and suddenly feels his whole body tense over her, and then he’s pulling away abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clambers off her, and she thinks he’s changed his mind, is momentarily relieved until he takes hold of her arm and pulls her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over,” he mutters, “turn over.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do as you’re told,” he snaps, and Thea is startled enough into rolling onto her stomach, O’s hand pressing her down by the back of her neck as he climbs back over her and shoves her legs apart with own. He brings himself to her entrance and she gasps at the suddenness of it as he pushes into her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is quick and rough, and Thea lays quietly on her stomach, glad he can’t see her face as she clutches her pillow with white knuckles and a tear slips down her cheek.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please don’t hurt me I swear I have a plan 😅 </p><p>Thoughts are always really appreciated and I’m so grateful for the amazing feedback so far!! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master is awoken with a start by the sound of a cry next to him, and when he’s sat bolt upright and blinked into the darkened room for a moment, he realises the small form in bed beside him is twisting and moaning softly, little sounds of distress coming from her. </p><p>Another nightmare. </p><p><em> Leave her </em>, the voice in his head tells him immediately. Get up out of bed, go downstairs and leave her to it before she can wake up and start clinging to him again. </p><p>He shoves the covers off, swings his legs out of bed. The Doctor gives another cry - this one louder, open-mouthed, and she sounded so awfully, desperately pathetic the Master finds himself pausing and looking back down at her. </p><p>It was just because he felt sorry for her. Just because he <em> pitied her </em>, felt ashamed for her to see her reduced to such a weak mess, and it certainly had nothing to do with the fact that his own dreams were so often haunted, and that there was a sneaking suspicion these nightmares were more of the Doctor leaking through than Thea Smith. </p><p>He sighs and reaches out with a hand, hovering it over her a moment as he watches her twist and whimper, before resting it on her shoulder and giving her a shake. </p><p>“Thea,” he says. “<em> Thea </em>.”</p><p>She flies upright with a gasp, but he’s ready for it, and grasps her by the arms before she can swing them at him. </p><p>“Thea it’s me, it’s alright.”</p><p>Her wide eyes clap onto his and widen further. “No - you - what are you doing here!? Get off me!”</p><p>“<em> Thea! </em>” He holds her still as she fights him, hand going to her face to cup it as gently as he can, brushing her mess of hair back from her eyes. “Thea calm down! You’re home, it’s… you’re safe.”</p><p>Her hands are gripping tight to his wrists, nails digging in, and she finally goes still, staring at him in the dark, distress painted on her brow that starts to fade as she pants hard. </p><p>“O,” she says after a moment. “O - Oscar. It - it’s you.”</p><p>“Of course it’s me,” he says gruffly,</p><p>“Of course it’s you,” she echoes emptily. “S-sorry,” she exhales, dropping her gaze. “I thought you were… someone else.”</p><p>“Who?”</p><p>Her brow furrows, confusion taking over her features. “I… I don’t know.”<br/>
<em> He did.  </em></p><p>He swallows, letting go of her. </p><p>“Well… you’re alright now,” he says, a bit awkwardly, and Thea nods, looking down at her blanket, eyes darting over it. </p><p>The Master clears his throat, and quickly gets out of bed before she can try and wrap herself around him again like she had the night before. </p><p>“I’m going down to make some hot cocoa,” he says, for an excuse to leave. “I’ll bring you some up.”</p><p>“Wait,” Thea quickly says, and leaps out of bed too, grabbing her gown off the back of the chair nearby and pulling it on. “I’ll come and help you.”</p><p>“Why?” He frowns. “I can manage to boil a kettle.”</p><p>Thea shrugs, avoiding his eyes as she ties her gown. “Don’t really want to be alone right now,” she admits quietly, and he stares at her. </p><p>“Fine,” he says after a pause, turning to let her follow. </p><p>The Doctor ends up making hot cocoa for both of them, batting the Master away gently when he starts mixing it with water instead of milk, which was apparently much better. It <em> does </em> taste good, he has to admit, when she sets a steaming mug down in front of him and plops down opposite at the kitchen table. </p><p>The Master watches her quietly as she blows on her drink across from him. There is still a crease etched into her brow, and her hazel eyes are dark and haunted.</p><p>“What was your dream about?” He finds himself blurting out, apparently unable to contain his morbid curiosity.</p><p>She lifts her startled gaze to his and looks alarmed for a moment, before she blinks, and snaps it back down to her drink.</p><p>“It was silly,” she answers quietly.</p><p>“Try me.”</p><p>“I’m…” she swallows visibly, and takes a deep breath. “The earth was burning,” she finally whispers. “It was burning and I couldn’t save anyone… it was too late.”</p><p>The Master stares at her for a long moment, before he lifts his drink, and takes a sip.</p><p>“Why was it up to you to save anybody?” He finally says when he sets it down. </p><p>She shrugs slowly. “I just… felt like it was my fault,” she whispers. “It was like… the person who did it -” She cuts off, lifts wide eyes to his and quickly jerks them away again, shaking her head. “I don’t know,” she whispers quickly. </p><p>He looks at her as she gazes down into her hot cocoa, her eyes filling with tears, and puts the odd twinge in his chest down to amusement. He forces a laugh, too short and hollow to be real.</p><p>“You’re right - it was silly,” he says, taking another drink for something to busy himself with.</p><p>The Doctor sniffs, reaching up to brush a tear from her cheek hastily and nods, lifting her own mug to hide her face from him for a moment, he suspects. When she lowers it, swallowing her mouthful of cocoa she manages to force a smile again.</p><p>“Yeah,” she says, and gets to her feet with a scrape of her chair on the kitchen tiles. “You know, I’m feeling really exhausted - gonna take the rest of this upstairs. I’ll see you up there?”</p><p>The Master nods, watching her turn and leave the room with a dark gaze.</p><p>—</p><p>He’s bored. So painfully, excruciatingly bored, and that’s the only reason he’s standing in the kitchen on Sunday morning, spatula in hand, frying bacon in the pan. </p><p>“Oscar!” He hears from behind him and turns to glance at the Doctor, standing barefoot and wide eyed in the doorway. She’s still in her nightclothes, hair rumpled and face pale, and it’s a little odd to see her here in the light of day as such. She’s always been up before him, pressed, dressed and neat, and her disheveled appearance makes him snort. </p><p>“You look tired,” he comments, turning to crack an egg into the pan. “Do the teas, will you?”</p><p>He doesn’t hear movement and when he glances round again she’s still staring at him.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“You,” she gives herself a little shake. “You’re <em> cooking?” </em></p><p>“I was hungry,” he replies. And bored. “And you were still asleep.”</p><p>“Sorry,” she says, and her cheeks flush, “I just - I didn’t sleep well - well you know, and I just -“</p><p>“It’s fine,” he cuts her off shortly. “Teas?”</p><p>She moves hesitantly into the kitchen, going for the kettle. She keeps glancing over at him as she sets about making tea. </p><p>“I didn’t even know you <em> could </em>cook.” She comments after a moment</p><p>“Of course I can cook,” he grunts back. “Basic things. It’s just throwing bacon and eggs in a pan, not exactly difficult.”</p><p>“Well…” she says, like she still doesn’t know what to make of it, “thank you.”</p><p>“Told you,” he says, “I was hungry. Thought you probably needed your rest.”</p><p>Quite honestly, he had avoiding waking the Doctor up earlier to get breakfast for him like she usually would because her description of her dream had shaken him slightly more than he’d care to admit. </p><p>He reminds himself he didn’t know what she’d seen - she spent her life flying round the universe trying to save countless people and planets like a fool - she could very well have been somewhere else where some planet was burning and she hadn’t been able to save anybody. And she always felt like everything was her fault anyway. That infuriating superiority complex of hers. There was no saying her dream was about gallifrey. </p><p>Anyway. If it had been - good. That’s what he’d wanted. What he’d fantasied about, spent those horrendous seventy-seven years on earth dreaming of, the comforting thought that had kept him going was that the Doctor could be waking up in a cold sweat every night with visions of the burning citadel in her mind’s eye. </p><p>It was just… a little disconcerting to see her so affected. The Doctor had never let her guard down enough around him since they were <em> children </em> for him to be able to see the things that plagued her - worried and hurt and upset her. He’d spent a thousand years trying to torture her, and she’d stood rigid against it all, deflecting him back tirelessly, again and again, always winning their little games in the end and striding off with that infuriatingly smug air of ‘ <em> I’m the better person’ </em> she always had about her. </p><p>He hadn’t ever really considered that when she was alone and nobody was around to impress and put on a brave face for, her nights might be just as haunted as his. </p><p>“Darling?”</p><p>He jumps a bit, jolted out of his thoughts by her hand on his arm.<br/>
“What?” </p><p>She motions to the pan. “The bacon’s burning.”</p><p>He curses, shovelling at it with his spatula, frantically looking around for somewhere to to put the slightly singed pieces of bacon. The Doctor appears beside him again with a plate and he deposits it on it.</p><p>“Why don’t you go and sit down,” she offers gently. “I’ll finish up.”</p><p>The Master passes her the spatula, grumbling about her distracting him clattering about making the tea, otherwise he wouldn’t have burnt the bacon. </p><p>“Of course dear,” she comments as she pokes at eggs in the pan. </p><p>--</p><p>She drives him mad by midday, bustling about the house with that irritating air of frantic energy she always seemed to possess no matter what form she was in. </p><p>“What are you <em> doing!?” </em> He snaps when he’s had enough of the horrendous clatters and clangs that have been coming from the kitchen for the last twenty minutes. He peers round the doorway to see her sprawled on the floor, head and shoulders buried in a cupboard with twenty or so pots and pans littered around her on the floor. </p><p>“Sorting out this cupboard,” she mumbles from inside. “I can never find the right pan - and do you know we’ve got about fifteen lids for things that don’t even fit anything?”</p><p>He stares at her for a moment. </p><p>“You’re getting your dress filthy.”</p><p>“It’s only an old one,” she replies absently. “Aha! Knew this was in here somewhere!” She emerges triumphant with what looks like a very battered old cake tin. “I’m going to make a cake!” She announces. </p><p>“Wonderful,” he comments, rolling his eyes and turning to leave her to it. </p><p>“It’s a bit small though,” he hears her muttering from behind him, “I wonder if I could…”</p><p>He tunes out the rest of her ramblings, shaking his head in exasperation as he stalks over to the door and grabs down his coat and hat. He had to get out of here for a while. </p><p>The Master pauses when he’s stepped outside, inhaling deeply and enjoying the relative quiet of the little street they live on. A particularly large clatter sounds out from inside the house and he winces, scowling and shoving his hat on his head to march off down the road, determined to at least make some progress towards getting out of this infernal place.</p><p>He walks the streets for hours and hours, but his search is futile; he finds only six more original police call boxes and no Tardis. Like he would happen upon it just sitting around here - damn thing was probably light years and centuries away somewhere - and in this primitive time period with no access to any technology he had little hope of tracking it down. Walking back towards home later that afternoon, he spots the particular police box the Doctor had seen the day before and feels a little unease inside him when he recalls her reaction to it. He should have thought not to walk them this way - he’d come across this one himself a day after arriving here - the first one he’d spotted here and to his embarrassment to recall, he’d probably had a similar reaction to her, sprinting over to it and hauling the door open. </p><p>He’d got some funny looks off passers by, but a quick glare had sent them hurrying along, and the Master had been in a foul mood the rest of the day. Much like he was now, with aching legs and no progress towards escape as he finally trudges up the ridiculous little garden path and lets himself into the stupid house he and the Doctor are forced to reside in. He’s surprised when he steps inside to the sound of multiple voices, and wanders into the sitting room with a frown on his face to see the Doctor sitting chatting animatedly with two other women, all with cups of tea cradled in their hands.</p><p>“O,” the Doctor says, setting her cup down and jumping up, crossing the floor to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting. “Hello darling. This is Mrs Peters and her daughter Violet - they live three doors down,” she tells him as she takes his hat and coat and hangs them up. “You know the house with the red door and those lovely tulips in the front garden?”</p><p>Yes. He hated those tulips.</p><p>“I’ve asked them all over for tea on Thursday. You don’t mind do you?”</p><p>Of course. She didn’t even know who she was and she was still collecting humans as pets. </p><p>He forces a smile. “Of course not,” he says, then makes a show of glancing at his watch. The reaction is instant and he has to steel himself not to laugh as Mrs and Miss Peters jump to their feet.</p><p>“We should be going!” Says the older to the Doctor.</p><p>“You don’t have to,” she quickly replies.</p><p>“No, no, it’s getting late, and my Eddy will be after his supper no doubt, just like this one,” she says good naturedly as she motions to the Master. He gives a tight smile in response and pretends not to see the glare the Doctor shoots his way as her guests bustle from the little sitting room. </p><p>She follows them to the door, bidding warm goodbyes, promising Mrs Peters the recipe for that cake she’d shared out, and Mrs Peter’s offering to pop round with her cake tin for her to borrow so she could make a larger version. The Master rolls his eyes, scoffing at their ridiculous human pleasantries. </p><p>After she’s bid them farewell and closed the door behind their neighbours, he catches the Doctor’s arm as she makes to head past him to the kitchen. </p><p>“Why isn’t dinner on the table? Or was gossiping with neighbours more important?”</p><p>She shrugs him off, frowning. “It’s in the oven - ready. I didn’t know when you were coming home did I? You just slunk off out, no indication of when you’d be back. I can’t read your mind Oscar.”</p><p>He reaches out and grabs her arm again as she makes to walk off, his hand like a vice around her bicep. It tenses beneath him and he grips her harder, pulling her round to face him.</p><p>“I don’t like your tone,” he growls.</p><p>She yanks at her arm, and he’s surprised enough to let her throw him off her again. “And I don’t like you being rude to our neighbours.”</p><p>He scowls. “I wasn’t rude.”</p><p>“Yes you were - looking at your watch like that - barely even said hello.”</p><p>“Well perhaps if my wife had dinner ready on time like I expect her to -”</p><p>“I didn’t know when you were coming back!” She snaps, voice raised, hazel eyes flashing - her anger riles him, the way she’s defying him like this - she wasn’t supposed to do this here and knocks him off track, making his own temper rise and bubble. </p><p>“Dinner time!” He barks, “I’m back at the same time we have dinner every night - maybe if you used your brains you might -”</p><p>“Maybe if you’d just <em> told me </em> when you’d be home before you left! - Hang on - did you say <em> brains, </em>plural?”</p><p>“What? No - don’t be ridiculous.”</p><p>“I’m not being ridiculous, I heard you -”</p><p>“Stop trying to change the subject!”</p><p>“I’m not!” She snaps, “And I think it’s unfair of you to expect me to be able to read your mind - half the time I have dinner ready when you’re due home from work and you’re not here!”</p><p>“That’s not the point!”</p><p>She folds her arms. “What’s the point then?”</p><p>“The point,” he splutters, “The <em> point is </em> - I expect dinner to be ready on time and I expect you to do as you’re told!”</p><p>“But that’s ridiculous when I don’t even know -”</p><p>“Dammit!” He cuts her off, temper snapping, “I am the Master and you will obey me!”</p><p>The Doctor blinks at him, then blinks again. “You - what?”</p><p>“Uh - of the house! I am the master of this house,” he snaps. “Why are you looking at me like that?” </p><p>She blinks again, then appears to give herself a little shake. “I’m not - looking at you like what? You were shouting at me.”</p><p>“You were shouting at <em> me. </em>And I’m -“</p><p>“The master of the house, yes I heard you,” she replies, her tone even but he can hear the mockery in her words and knows she’s rolling her eyes she turns away. “Go and sit down, I’ll bring it out.” </p><p>Neither of them speak for the first half of dinner, irritated enough with each other to sit there in stubborn silence as they eat the meal she’d made. </p><p>Finally, predictably, the Doctor breaks the tense quiet. </p><p>“Mrs Peters invited us to her son’s wedding next weekend.”</p><p>The Master pauses with a forkful of food halfway to his mouth. “What?”</p><p>“Her son, Michael - he’s getting married next saturday and she invited us - well, not to the actual wedding I think that’s just family - just to the bit after. They’re hiring the town hall for a little get together. They’ve got a little band playing and everything.”</p><p>The Master looks at her for a moment before her frowns. “No.”</p><p>“What?” The Doctor scowls back at him. “What do you mean no?”</p><p>“I mean <em> no </em>,” he snaps, going back to his dinner. </p><p>“Well I want to go!” She exclaims indignantly and the Master feels his irritation rise. Of course she did - but being here like this - having to pretend with <em> her </em> was exhausting enough, he had no desire to socialise with large groups of humans and have to play the polite husband by her side all evening whilst she probably jabbered on to every poor soul in the room. Absolutely not.</p><p>“Well I said no.”</p><p>“But why!?”</p><p>“Because I said so.”</p><p>“That’s not an answer!”</p><p>The Master slams down his fork. “You are testing my patience this evening!”</p><p>Abruptly, the Doctor shoves back her chair, getting to her feet. “You’ve been testing mine all week!” She snaps, picking up her plate and heading for the kitchen. Her grabs her arm as she marches past and she yanks at it angrily. “Get off!” She exclaims, giving such a jerk she stumbles sideways and into the sideboard, knocking a book to the floor as she crashes into it, knife and fork tumbling from her plate to the carpet. </p><p>Giving him a wide-eyed glare, she turns on her heel and takes off. </p><p>“Thea!” He barks, but only gets the clatter of her plate being thrown in the kitchen sink and the sound of the back door opening and closing with a bang in response. </p><p>The Master stares after her, breathing hard with fury and more than a little surprise. </p><p>She wasn’t supposed to snap back at him like that - wasn’t supposed to <em> fight him </em> when he got hold of her - he’d planted solid memories of obedience to him into her head, he’d been <em> sure </em> of it. </p><p>He supposes... memories are no guarantee of this version of her behaving the same way. Particularly when it was against her nature - he was fairly certain she’d been born defiant. Remembers even as children when the Doctor would break the rules just for the sake of it. (Was it? Or was it really because the rigid structure of their society had never been in her blood to begin with?)</p><p>He clenches his fists, looking at the mess she’d left on the floor where her cutlery had fallen and potato was scattered all over the carpet, along with the book she’d knocked down open upside down. </p><p>He was losing control of her - and he <em> couldn’t </em> lose control here, not when the situation was so delicate - not when there was the chance of her running off on her own, human and vulnerable and <em> weak </em> and those bloody Judoon getting a hold of her and all this having been for nothing. She only needed to accidentally find the Tardis before him - and he’d seen the way she was drawn to that stupid police box the day before like a magnet; it wasn’t entirely unlikely. </p><p>Giving an annoyed growl, he slides off the chair to the floor to pick everything up, slamming the knife and fork on the table and plucking bits of potato from the carpet. He just had to get her to behave herself, just long enough for him to be able to figure out a way out of this place, and once he had his hands on a Tardis - his of hers he didn’t care anymore - he could find out whether the Judoon were still tracking them, and as soon they were all clear rip this stupid chamealon arch out of her and be done with the whole debacle. They could go back to their lives. Him to finding new, much more exciting ways of antagonising her, and her… to hugging trees or whatever the hell she did. </p><p>Until then… he just had to make sure she knew who was boss. He reaches to pick up the book, and his eyes fall on the slip of paper that had fallen out of it. </p><p>The advertisement he’d ripped out of the newspaper a few days ago. He’d slipped it into her book and forgotten all about it… but now, the Master lifts the little slip of torn out paper up to his face, and grins.</p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So who remembers what that advert was 🤫😂</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It gets cold in the garden rather quickly with no coat, but Thea sits on the step up to the little patio stubbornly for a further twenty minutes, arms wrapped around herself as she shivers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She knows she shouldn’t have shouted back at Oscar like that, but Thea can’t find it within herself to feel sorry for it. The way he swans about doing what he likes when he likes then feels like he has a right to chastise her the moment one tiny thing is not to his liking. And saying no without even considering their invite to Mr Peters’ wedding! Thea likes Mrs and Miss Peters, and she wants to go. Heaven knows she could use some friends - she likes people, always had… she doesn’t quite understand how she’d let herself become so isolated here in this house with just her temperamental husband for company. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally giving in when her teeth start to chatter, Thea slips back into the kitchen, and listens for a moment to see if she can gauge whereabouts in the house O was lurking. She hears the clink of a bottle against a glass coming from the sitting room and rolls her eyes. Sulking his way through the brandy then. Well. She certainly wasn’t going out there to apologise - if anything, Thea thinks </span>
  <em>
    <span>she</span>
  </em>
  <span> is the one who’s owed an apology. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Turning to the sink, she busies herself with washing up her plate and then O’s which he’d helpfully left on the kitchen counter for her to do. She washes up the pots and pans next, clears the kitchen and gives it a clean, and when she can’t procrastinate out here any longer she stops to lean against the counter with a sigh, looking up at the clock on the wall. It’s still too early to head up to bed, and Thea hovers for a moment, before she gives a huff and turns to root through one of the cupboards near the refrigerator, certain she had - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Aha.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She pulls out a half-empty bottle of cooking sherry triumphantly. If Oscar could sit out there drinking and sulking so could she. She grabs out a glass, pours herself a generous helping then goes to replace the bottle before thinking better of it, and setting it down on the little kitchen table as she plops down into a chair with her drink. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time the clock strikes ten, the sherry bottle is almost empty and Thea sways a little when she gets to her feet, still annoyed and resolved to go to bed without speaking to Oscar again, if she can help it. And at least if he wanted to make love again tonight her senses were dulled enough for her to be able to bear it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar is sprawled in his armchair in front of the fire, glass of brandy in one hand resting on the arm of the chair, pipe in the other. One leg crossed over the other. His dark gaze watches her steadily as she slinks into the room, and Thea swallows, lifting her chin and walking past him. “I’m going to bed,” she says shortly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No you’re not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The quiet phrase is enough to make her pause. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Pardon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sets down his brandy and his pipe, and uncrosses his legs. “Come here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea stands straighter, not moving. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I said so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O looks at her evenly, an eyebrow raised; challenging her to argue back. They are locked in a wordless battle for a moment, before she huffs, dropping her gaze. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” she mutters, and crosses the room to stand in front of him. She folds her arms. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He motions to himself with his chin. “Closer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea hesitates, wary of the glint dancing in his dark eyes before she takes a step nearer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Closer.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to resist rolling her eyes a little, Thea steps closer, right up to him so his knees are brushing her legs, and opens her mouth to ask him again what he wanted when he reaches out, quick as a flash to seize her by the arm and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pull. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Already off balance in her slightly less than sober state, Thea stumbles forward, toppling down and landing sprawled on her stomach across his lap. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar!” She yelps, and tries to scramble quickly back upright. His arm braces across her back and holds her down and she flails there, unable to get back up. “O what are you -” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you need to be reminded who’s in charge,” He says dangerously, and Thea feels his other hand resting on her backside. Threatening. She freezes, inhaling sharply. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” He continues, running his hand over her, caressing the swell of her arse, “I should give you a good spanking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea gasps, and her eyes land on the little slip of paper that appears to have fluttered to the floor. A cutout from a newspaper - an advert, picturing… well, the position she and O were in right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very funny,” she tries, straining against the pressure across her back again. “Let me up, O,” she huffs, careful to keep her tone irritated and unaffected, like he was joking. (He had to be joking - right?)</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we haven’t even started yet my dear,” he replies, and Thea can hear his smirk dripping from every word. Her face flushes and her stomach flips as he squeezes her bottom and Thea feels angry that he’s threatening her like this - but she also becomes aware of something else she’s feeling that shocks her to the core and makes her squirm over her husband’s lap in embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was turned on. Wet and burning and aching between her legs, enough to make her whimper and set her heart pounding - and Thea doesn’t understand at all </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she tries again, refusing to give away the sensations she was feeling in her steady tone, “Let me up.” She struggles against him, a little panicked by the sensations running through her, and he presses her down harder. “Please,” she begs, a hint of real fear curling up her spine. Surely he wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you going to behave?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea swallows, trying not to squirm as she feels herself start to throb between her legs. “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And do as you’re told?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Angry tears of humiliation sting in her eyes and she squeezes them shut. “Yes,” she whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels his hand slide down the back of her thigh, toying with her skirts, lifting them a little and she gasps, hands gripping tightly to the edge of the chair she’s sprawled over across O’s lap as her arousal spikes, and with it a tear spills down her cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>How could </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> be making her want sex? How could the way her husband was humiliating her set her insides alight with such intensity Thea is struggling to catch her breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Who is the master of this house?” O demands and Thea bites down on the inside of her cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” she mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Say it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say my name!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Oscar?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!” He drags up her skirts and she lets out a gasp, struggling futilely again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you mean!” She cries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes you do,” he growls, and she feels his hand move away from her, feels him shift like he’s bracing to bring it down on her - “say it! Say who I am!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re - the master of the house?” She tries frantically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yess</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hisses, “Say it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he growls like he’s getting increasingly frustrated with her. “Just - just my name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea takes a breath, thinks a moment. Is that what he wanted? “...Master?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He replies, and brings his hand to squeeze her backside making her whimper, biting down hard on her lip. “Say it again,” he whispers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master,” Thea replies quietly, hating herself, hating </span>
  <em>
    <span>him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master!” She growls through gritted teeth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you ever going to defy me like that again?” She hears O ask her and takes a breath, forcing back tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea bites down on the inside of her cheek, trying not to make a noise when he runs his hand from her bottom down the back of her thigh, slipping it beneath her skirts to touch the skin over the top of her stocking. She’s trembling, heart pounding, wet and aching between her legs and she squirms again, face burning as she gives a sniff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No master.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good girl,” O says, and she can hear him grinning, then he releases her, sitting back in his chair and letting her scramble up off his lap, shaking hands yanking her dress hastily back down as she stares at him with wide, tear filled eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waves a hand. “You can go now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea sniffs, legs trembling, body on fire and head a mess.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She ducks her head and scarpers for the door, but finds herself hesitating in the threshold, fingers gripping tight to the doorframe as she turns back to look at the dark figure by the fireplace.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She swallows. “Are you… are you coming to bed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O glances over at her, and looks surprised for a flash of a second before smugness washes over his features like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>, (he couldn’t, could he?) and Thea feels her face </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be up in a minute,” he says, and Thea nods and rushes up the stairs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea lets her thighs fall open when her husband climbs into bed with her and settles over her, more than ready for him to slide inside her, her head tipping back in a moan as he fills her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s still confused - and angry at him for treating her that way; despite the fact he’d never actually hit her she feels hurt and humiliated like he had done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But at the same time…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you like being over my knee like that love?” O growls into her ear as he thrusts into her, and Thea cannot prevent the moan from tumbling from her lips, feeling herself clench around his cock inside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course not,” she answers quietly and he doesn’t reply, just lifts himself up on his hands braced over her, and looks down into her face with glittering eyes as he fucks her harder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like she had bent over the kitchen counter the day before, Thea starts to feel everything low in her body tighten, a pressure building in the pit of her abdomen and centering between her legs that makes her gasp, clutching to O, panting hard as her thighs begin to tremble. It had alarmed her yesterday, but today she chases that feeling, craving the moment that pressure would snap desperately, head spinning as she rocks her hips up to meet her husband's thrusts frantically. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the pressure inside her bursts it’s so intense Thea feels tears slip down her cheeks, gasping and whimpering open mouthed as she feels herself flutter wildly around Oscar’s cock, her hands clinging to him desperately.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Say my name,” he whispers into her ear, and Thea somehow knows what he’s asking, swallows and grips tighter to his shoulders. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Master,” she whispers back, and he gives a howl by her ear as he empties inside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Thea wakes it’s still dark outside and she’s shivering, and it takes her a moment to realise through her fuzzy head that it’s because O has rolled away from her, wrapped up tightly in all of the duvet leaving her body bare to the cold night air, just her bralette and one stocking to cover her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blushing at her state of undress, Thea scrambles for the blankets, grabbing the edge and yanking at them. Oscar gives a grunt in his sleep and curls up tighter on his side, and Thea resists the urge to thump him that rushes through her. Letting out a sound of frustration, she tumbles out of bed, shivering as she rushes over to the wardrobe and pulls out a nightdress, quickly shedding her underclothes and yanking it on. It’s thin and doesn’t do much in the way of warming her, and she clambers back into bed, nudging at her husband. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she hisses. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>O!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives another groan and halfheartedly bats her off in his sleep and Thea growls in annoyance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He growls when he jolts awake, blinking for a moment before he focuses on her and frowns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m freezing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O huffs, rolling away from her again. “That’s not my bloody problem - go and get another blanket,” he grumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve got </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of them</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she says through gritted teeth, yanking at the edge of the duvet he’s cocooned in sharply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He flops back over onto his back and blinks at her, finally seeming to focus on the fact that she’s uncovered and shivering next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, and with a great huff extracts himself enough from the duvet to throw the other side of it over her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea takes it, gratefully huddling up beneath it, blissfully warm from his body. She’s still shivering as she curls on her side, body trembling almost violently now, and she glances over at her husband, turned away from her again, and after a moment of biting her lip, inches over to him, aligning herself with his warm back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is rigid against her then gives a yelp when she tucks her cold feet up to his legs and moves away from her, rolling back over to glare at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” she whispers, “My feet are cold.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well don’t warm them up on </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snaps, and Thea doesn’t know what it is - perhaps the fact that she was tired and cold - maybe the alcohol still in her system or what had transpired between them the night before - their fight and then how O had </span>
  <em>
    <span>humiliated </span>
  </em>
  <span>her - the way they’d made love after overwhelming and confusing her, (the word ‘Master’ on her lips, ringing in her ears - why had that felt so unsettlingly significant?)… but Thea feels her bottom lip tremble and before she can stop herself she bursts into tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wha -” She hears O say as she buries her face in her hands to hide it, embarrassed, quickly turning away and curling up on her other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s silent in the room for a minute, and she sniffles into the quiet, making her pillow damp with tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Th - Thea?” She finally hears. “Why are you crying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t know,” she whispers, sniffing and wishing she could get control of herself. “I just…” she breaks off, not knowing what to say, and squeezes her eyes shut as she curls tighter on her side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop it,” O says after another moment, like that might make her do so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m just… tired and - and cold and… I don’t know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s another pause. It's awkward, lying there in the dark, unable to stop the tears from spilling while her husband listens to her cry in silence, and the fact he’s doing so only makes them come faster. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wishes he wasn’t here witnessing this. Thea doesn’t know why but feeling weak in front of O like this… frightens her. It makes her feel like she should be running a mile, like she should throw up iron clad walls around herself and scramble away from him until he can’t see her. She’s sure he must have seen her cry before. He’s her </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thea is too tired and distressed to recall any particular moments right now but she’s certain they must exist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Perhaps she’s just feeling particularly vulnerable after the night before, and she wishes O would </span>
  <em>
    <span>say something</span>
  </em>
  <span> - or at least leave her alone to pull herself together in peace rather than just lying there staring at her back in the dark as she sniffs quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea clutches tight to her pillow, eyes squeezed shut, and is just starting to wonder if perhaps her husband had actually fallen back </span>
  <em>
    <span>asleep</span>
  </em>
  <span> while she lay here upset, and is working up the courage to turn round and peek at him, when to her utter surprise, she feels the touch of a hand against her back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She freezes, inhaling sharply and holding her breath as her whole body automatically goes tense in response, until slowly, tentatively she feels that hand start to stroke over her back, rubbing gently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea exhales, letting out the breath she was holding and feels her body relax. She hiccups a little, curling into her pillow, but suddenly the tears have stopped spilling and she reaches up with a hand to brush them from her cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar doesn't speak, and neither does she, she just lays there in the dark and quiet as he rubs his hand over her back, until eventually, body warming up now from the inside and muscles relaxing, Thea falls back into an exhausted slumber. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally certain she’d fallen asleep when her breathing has evened out, the Master sighs and stops the steady rubbing motion over the Doctor’s back. He slumps down, but his hand still rests there, feeling the warmth of her body (warmer now, with her current human biology, and wasn’t that weird?), beneath his palm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt strange, offering her comfort. - He’d only done it to stop her whimpering; he’d never have gotten any sleep otherwise, and he was tired. But now that she’s fallen asleep next to him, the Master can’t help but reflect on how disconcerting in its unfamiliarity it had been to feel the Doctor relax beneath his touch - be soothed by it. He certainly hadn’t ever </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried </span>
  </em>
  <span>to comfort her (in recent years, anyhow - their deep past is another issue, set aside and apart, the only way it could reside in his hearts now) - but had he, he doubts she would have let herself be soothed by his touch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea was everything the Doctor wasn’t, but a growing part of him was starting to wonder if these parts of her were just parts of the Doctor she never let him see. Thea had no reason to have iron clad walls up around her emotions and vulnerability, nor did she have the memories of centuries of practice to make her so skilled at locking everything away. It throws him off; he’d imagined a lot of things setting this whole charade up, but he hadn’t expected to see the Doctor like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tormenting her had been a lot easier when he didn’t have to see her cry over it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I live to hear your thoughts :) Can't thank you all enough for the amazing feedback on this story so far!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Master leaves for ‘work’ before the Doctor rises the next morning, and stays out late enough for her to be curled up in bed by the time he gets home. She isn’t asleep, he can tell by her breathing pattern, but she seems to want to pretend to be and it suits him, letting him into bed quietly behind her and laying there until she really does fall asleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gets out of bed and trudges downstairs, and the Master gets his few hours of sleep on the settee that night before making his way back upstairs and slipping back into bed just before the Doctor’s alarm goes off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning darling,” she says quietly when he wanders into the kitchen at the time he is due to. There’s a few bits of toast and a cup of tea waiting for him on the kitchen table, and he doesn’t comment on the lack of effort she’d clearly put into his breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You not eating?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not really hungry,” she says, turning away from him and busying herself with washing up while he eats. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here’s your lunch,” the Doctor passes him a paper bag after he’s gotten ready for work, eyes carefully avoiding his. “We only had cheese for the sandwiches. I’ll go to the shop today,” she says, and he nods as he takes the bag from her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master finds himself hesitating, hovering in front of her as she smooths hands over her dress and fiddles with it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See you later then,” she says after an awkward pause, turning away to collect up his breakfast things.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be home on time tonight,” he finds himself blurting out. Why is he explaining himself to her? He didn’t owe her anything - he was the master of the house. “So make sure you have dinner ready,” he hastily adds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees her pause on her way to the sink, her posture rigid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I always do,” she replies shortly</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he says, electing not to bring up their row on sunday over the fact. “Well. Good.” He hesitates before stepping over and ducking to press a kiss to her cheek like he’s expected to every morning, pretending not to notice the way she flinches away from him. “Bye then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master visits an electronics shop in the morning and purchases a couple of bags worth of equipment - anything and everything he can pick up, in the (probably futile) hopes he can engineer some sort of device that might be able to track down the tardis’s energy signals. He’d never been much of an inventor, and immediately squashes the thought that the Doctor could probably do it. If she could do it, so could he. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He regrets going there first thing when his arms are aching by lunchtime carrying around the heavy bags, and he wanders into their local park to find a bench to sit on to have lunch. Squinting a little in the sun, the Master sighs as he settles down and pulls out the brown paper lunch bag the Doctor had prepared for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mundane. All of it. How long was he going to be stuck here? He’d already had to live through seventy-seven torturous years on his decrepit planet and he didn’t think he could take much more - especially in this ridiculous, backwards time period. The Master absently pulls out a sandwich and lifts it to his mouth to take a bite when the shock of something </span>
  <em>
    <span>off</span>
  </em>
  <span> shoots through his system. He spits it out hastily, immediately pulling apart the rest of the sandwich and sniffing it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could smell it - just faintly, but his timelord senses could pick up on something non-organic - some chemical laced in the cheese and bread that shouldn’t be there. If he’d been human he certainly wouldn’t have been able to detect it, but the Master was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> human - nor was he stupid. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands are shaking so hard with anger he can hardly get his key in the lock of their front door, and when he does he flings it open, throwing down his shopping bags and kicking it shut with a bang before stalking through the house, offending sandwich in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea!” He barks. “I swear woman, you better come out here </span>
  <em>
    <span>right now!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She wasn’t in the kitchen or the sitting room, and the garden appears empty when he sticks his head out the back door too. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He thunders, pounding up the stairs and throwing open their bedroom door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Empty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Where was she?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stomach flipping suddenly, he races to the wardrobe and flings it open - not sure what he’ll do if she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone</span>
  </em>
  <span> - how will he find her? She’s just human here he has no way of tracking her and if he lost her here then - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All her clothes were still there, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Refusing to admit the level of momentary panic he’d just felt, and finding it quickly replaced again with rage, he slams the cupboard door shut and thunders down the stairs. The Master pauses in the empty house, and is just at a loss, wondering where the hell she could have got to, when he spots the list on the kitchen counter and hurries over to seize it, noticing it was a shopping list - of course. She’d mentioned needing to go shopping today - must have accidentally left her list behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first thought is to go after her, race down to the local shops and drag her out by her hair, the fury still practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulsing </span>
  </em>
  <span>though his blood, until another thought occurs to him: if she’d done something as bad as he thought, how could she just be going about her day as normal? The Doctor was… capable of darkness yes, but that - that was practically psychopathic and he knew - he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> turning her human couldn’t have wiped all her stupid morals from her brain that thoroughly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A new task in mind, the Master starts throwing open kitchen cupboards, rifling furiously through everything in them. Jars, condiments - plates and cups and sugar and flour and tins… he throws it all out, uncaring of the mess he’s making as his eyes frantically search for </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He rips off the lid of every cleaning product and sniffs them all, trying to match up the scent of whatever was laced in the sandwich but having no luck… his stomach drops when he spots a container of rat poison and he opens it frantically to find… that apparently it was just used for pest control.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At a loss, he’s starting to suspect she just threw away whatever she’d used, when finally, there in the very back of the pantry, tucked away behind a bottle of cough medicine… </span>
  <em>
    <span>laxatives. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Staring at the bottle after sniffing the contents and immediately realising this was the culprit… he almost wants to laugh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d thoroughly humiliated her, made her angry, hurt her - emotionally if not physically… and her way of getting revenge was to give him an upset stomach for a day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fundamentally harmless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was so pathetic it was honestly hilarious. </span>
</p>
<p><span>(The Master would deny forever that period of genuine fear, when he’d really believed she had tried to poison him, would deny that he </span><em><span>didn’t</span></em> <em><span>know</span></em><span> deep down what she was capable of - especially here, like this, with all her memories of being a fucking pariah of all that was good in the universe didn’t exist - the Master would never admit that he was afraid of anything anymore, least of all the </span><em><span>Doctor</span></em><span> -)</span></p>
<p>
  <span>After tipping the laxatives away just in case she got any more </span>
  <em>
    <span>wicked</span>
  </em>
  <span> ideas, the Master methodically tidies the kitchen back up, putting all the lids back on the containers and everything back in the cupboards, then moving his bag of purchases into the shed out of sight so she wouldn’t know he’d been home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waiting for her to come home and telling her he knew what she’d attempted had been tempting - but this way he had the upper hand, and much more control over the situation. It’s definitely not because he isn’t even angry anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rest of the afternoon passes slowly, and the Master is glad when it’s time to make his way home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Home</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is jarring to realise he was actually coming to think of the depressing little terrace house they resided in as home, the street he walks down so familiar now he knows where each crack in the pavement is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He passes their neighbours’ houses on the way, and is reminded of the other evening as he walks past the Peter’s residence, with those disgustingly brightly coloured tulips he hates out the front. He pauses, glances around to find the street empty, before bending to rip a handful of them spitefully out of the soil. He smirks, and hurries quickly on up his own garden path and lets himself into his house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” the Doctor sounds startled when she sees him, popping her head round from the little dining room, and it takes him a moment to realise she’s staring at the bunch of flowers he still has in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You…” she walks over, stopping in front of him before lifting her gaze to his with an incredulous smile. “You shouldn’t have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master blinks at her for a full five seconds before the pieces join together in his head, and he realises what she’s assumed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His first thought is to hastily let her know she’s mistaken, and find great amusement in the way her face falls but for some reason… for some reason, the Master instead clears his throat, lifts his hand and thrusts the flowers at her with a gruff “it’s nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor takes them carefully, eyes wide and bright, face flickering with emotion and - oh Rassilon he hoped she wasn’t going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>cry</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, he thinks he might throw up if she did. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a breath and apparently getting a hold of herself she smiles at him. “Thank you,” she says, leaning in with a gentle hand on his shoulder to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dinner’s ready,” she tells him when she pulls away, taking his hat and coat when he shrugs out of them with her free hand. “I’ll just put these flowers in some water then I’ll be out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he mutters, wandering through to plop himself down at the dining table, firmly ignoring the fact that his lips were tingling a little from the press of her own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fancy the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> going soft over flowers. He couldn’t wait to tease her about this when she got back to herself. Ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s quiet over dinner, watching her carefully out of the corner of his eye as he eats. She keeps casting slightly worried glances at him, the anxiety in her eyes morphing into guilt and he finds it funnier each time. Had she been regretting her petty crime already or did she just feel bad now that she thought he’d been nice to her? Either way, it was terribly amusing, and when they get to pudding he decides to put her out of her misery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know what happened today?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” She glances across the table at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Went to the park for my lunch break,” he begins conversationally around a mouthful of treacle tart. “Thought I’d eat in the sun - you know, get out the office for a bit. And a huge seagull swooped down and took my sandwich right out my hand!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s wide eyes flick up to his, mouth open and hand paused with her forkful of pudding. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your… - um. A - a seagull? We’re nowhere near the sea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know! Weird wasn’t it? Took the whole lot, dropped most of it, but obviously I had to put it in the bin after it had been on the floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stares a him for a moment. “Oh,” she finally says. “So… you um… didn’t have any lunch then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just the apple,” he shrugs, “Wasn’t that hungry. And I don’t like that cheese that much anyway. Thought it tasted a bit off the day before, so it’s probably a good thing I didn’t eat it. You wouldn’t want me to get sick, would you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches her very carefully across the table as he takes another bite of pudding, and delights in the way she positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>squirms</span>
  </em>
  <span> in her chair. He has to forcibly hold back a giggle, enjoying himself far too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, she clears her throat. “Of course not,” she says hastily, and gets to her feet. “You done with that? I’m - I’ll  - start cleaning up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master sits back in his chair and lets her take the two half-finished puddings away and escape to the kitchen, allowing himself an amused grin once she was out of sight. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither of them mention the sandwiches again, but the Doctor is unusually quiet for the rest of the evening. Quite honestly, he enjoys the peace. She can be… </span>
  <em>
    <span>exhausting</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be around when she’s in one of her more lively moods, even here, in dulled human form she was full of erratic energy and it was rare for her to sit still for so long. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she murmurs later that night, when they sit back to back on their respective sides of the bed, him unwinding his tie and her rolling stockings down her legs as they ready for sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really did appreciate the flowers,” she says softly, and his hand pauses on his undone tie a couple of seconds before he yanks it off, clearing his throat and starting on the buttons of his shirt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” he replies. “I’m… glad.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They finish undressing in silence, and O just sits back down after kicking off his trousers, ready to shrug off his shirt and reach over for his nightclothes when he feels a gentle hand on his shoulder and turns to find, to his surprise, the Doctor kneeling close behind him, naked, her hands reaching up to thread into his hair, tilting up her chin as she guides him into a kiss.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lets herself fall back with him over her as she kisses him, small fingers curling tight in his hair and her lithe form arching beneath him as she gives the softest of moans.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s a little stunned when they break apart, blinking down at her. “Liked them that much did you?” He murmurs, and she flushes, dropping her gaze, eyeing his shirt collar as she fiddles with it. She shrugs a shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It was just… thoughtful. I guess… it reminded me why we got married.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Confused, he stares at her. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives him a funny look. “Because we love each other,” she says simply, like it’s something he should have know. “Of course,” she smiles, and the Master can only stare at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Because we love each other</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why do those words pierce his hearts like a knife has slid straight through the both of them? Of course she assumed that - he’d put all that stuff in her head. Oscar was Thea’s husband, and Thea thought they loved each other. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You love me?” He finally utters, unsure why he’s asking - already knowing what she’s programmed to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course darling. And I know you love me too,” she murmurs, “Even if… even if sometimes it doesn’t feel like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to comment but she quickly rushes on (he’s glad; he isn’t sure what he would have said). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just mean because work makes you stressed and tired and sometimes you’re grumpy when you come home…” She drops her gaze, fiddling with his shirt collar again. “And we don’t exactly always see eye to eye.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We never have,” he comments, the words slipping out with a tiny wistful smile before he can stop them, and her eyes flick up to his again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she agrees, chewing her lip. “But… we got along so well when we were younger,” she continues quietly, one hand slipping from his collar to brush through his hair, small fingers scraping gently at his scalp. “Remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master’s mouth is suddenly too dry to reply. Yes, he did remember - and though there was currently a filter over The Doctor’s memories of them to make them fit this fake life, what she was recalling now was largely all authentic. Her and him. The Doctor and the Master…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Theta and Koschei. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives himself a jolt, realising he had been staring down at her with an open mouth for the last minute or so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you - going to -?” She cuts off, sounding a little awkward and wriggling a bit beneath him. Right. Yes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he nods firmly, brain connecting back up to where he was pressed against her hip, hard and ready. Sex was fine - sex was good, probably just the distraction he needed from their complex history she’d brought to the forefront of his mind. “Turn over then,” he says brusquely, lifting up and nudging at her shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his surprise, she shrugs him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No I don’t - I want to see your face,” she says. “...Please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should have laughed at her, rolled her onto her front and bit down on her neck as he sank inside her just to add an extra sting. It was ridiculous - that she wanted to gaze into his eyes as he fucked her like they were two humans making love instead of two timelords - </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>One</span>
  </em>
  <span> timelord, he corrects his train of thought. One timelord and… whatever the fuck she was. One timelord using one of the most powerful creatures in the universe for his own pleasure. That was the point of this, wasn’t it? To finally, just here, just for a little bit, be </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than her - instead of it always being the other way around. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what he should have done, and definitely what he was going to do, but the Master apparently hesitates for a few seconds too long because then he’s feeling her tiny warm hand wrapping around him and hissing in pleasure as she strokes him, coaxing him towards her entrance with soft thighs falling apart to cradle his hips and no force in the universe could stop him from sinking inside her slick warmth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She makes ridiculous little keening noises by his ear, and the hand still in his hair clenches tight before she quickly releases him like the motion had been unintentional. Her other hand grasps the bed sheets by her side and The Doctor tips her head back as he moves inside her, his hips thrusting steady and deep and she…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She just lays there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s what he wanted, wasn’t it? Her submitted to him - and oh how he’d got off on it to start with, on the thrill of being able to draw up her skirts and push inside her, and her just </span>
  <em>
    <span>taking it</span>
  </em>
  <span> with barely a whimper, letting him do what he willed with her - letting him use her for his pleasure. Thinking it was his right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she was so damned </span>
  <em>
    <span>passive</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this. And if the Master was honest… he knows how she can be, and he misses her enthusiasm, her fire. Nails biting at his skin and teeth scraping, hands bruising as she gripped him tightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on,” he mutters, craving to feel nails drawing blood, teeth in his neck, her body moving to meet his thrusts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” She blinks up at him innocently like she doesn’t understand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course she doesn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me what you want,” he finds himself growling, desperate for her to give him </span>
  <em>
    <span>something. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What I… want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hisses, tucking a hand under her knee and hitching her leg up higher on his hip so he can get deeper inside her. She gasps, and he feels her pulse around him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m… I don’t know what you mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master pauses on top of her, body going still as he stares down at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. No. Of course she didn’t  - that was to be expected - and that certainly didn’t make him feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she was just… what he’d made her. He swallows, shaking those thoughts from his head and leaning down on one forearm so he can shove the other down between her legs. If she wasn’t going to give him anything he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>make her </span>
  </em>
  <span>come alive - show her what she wanted. He was in control here after all - of the situation, of her - that was the point of all this. He was the puppeteer, and she was his puppet. And tonight, because he commanded it, he was going to make her </span>
  <em>
    <span>sing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like he’d promised, he draws two powerful orgasms from her heated form before he nears his own finish, and by the time he’s ready the come the Doctor is a sweating, panting mess beneath him, blonde hair stuck to her forehead and lips parted as she whimpers and gasps, her nails curled into his arms. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that?” He demands as he pounds into her, her legs pulled up over his shoulders now, no doubt her muscles were screaming and she’d feel him all day tomorrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Perfect. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods frantically, squeezing her eyes shut. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look at me,” he growls, “Tell me you like it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes snap open and are wide and dark as they lock onto his. “I like it. You feel -” she gasps, “Feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>so good</span>
  </em>
  <span>… I think, think I’m gonna -” She cuts off with another gasp and he smirks down at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good girl,” he patronises, thrusting harder into her, knowing when he starts striking her clit as his body hits hers by the sounds that leave her mouth and the way her thighs start to shudder against him. “One more now,” he tells her, fucking her faster, “One more for me - that’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>it</span>
  </em>
  <span>…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her whole body shakes as she breaks apart, and her inner walls clench so hard around him it nearly squeezes the breath from his lungs, making him howl in pleasure as his own orgasm rips through him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For the second night in a row, the Master comes looking deep into the Doctor’s eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she says a little while after, voice sounding heavy and quiet like she’s on the verge of drifting off to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” He grunts from his place rolled away from her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were right about the cheese. I threw it away,” she mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master listens to her breathing even out as she falls asleep that night with a smile on his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Comments are appreciated so much if you have the time, I'm loving hearing all your thoughts about this one :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The rest of the week passes by painfully slowly, crawling by like time seemed wont to do here. The days drag the most, when the Master has to keep himself busy for ten or so hours whilst he’s supposedly out at work, and he chooses not to focus on the fact that he’s coming home at six pm on the dot every night now rather than staying out long past midnight in order to spend as little time as possible with his arch enemy like he had done to start with. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s just run out of things to occupy himself with. The tardis clearly isn’t here - not in the nearby vicinity anyway so looking for it is pointless, and building a device to attempt to track its energy signals was proving frustrating and difficult, and the Master couldn’t concentrate on it for too long a period of time without wanting to smash it to pieces. Besides, hiding in the garden shed to do so was less than convenient - Thea had wandered down there on Wednesday afternoon for a trowel and he’d had slip out the window and hide in a cluster of bushes behind whilst he listened her rummaging about. It was easier to head down there while she knew he was at home, muttering about sorting out his tool box or some other such rubbish to work on it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Things are less strained between them anyway, and he takes full advantage of Thea’s new ease around him to relieve his boredom, talking her into bed earlier each night and staying up later, and sometimes even pressing her to the kitchen counter in the morning and watching her come alive under his touch as the kettle boiled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d come to discover she was beautifully reactive like this, and it amuses him terribly to see her lose herself in him so completely, giving herself over to every sensation he could make her feel, getting bolder in verbalising her pleasure and wants, and each time it becomes less just about the pleasures the Master could find for himself in her body, and more the reactions he could draw from her too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One evening he manages to coax her into slipping her underwear off and sliding into his lap  while they sit by the fire, his hands beneath her skirts as he guides her down onto his cock. She clutches at his shoulders as she rises and falls over him, her breath ragged by his ear and the little sounds she makes reverberating right through him and driving his own pleasure up higher. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If he lets her lay slumped over him for a while when they are done, breathing hotly into his neck as her small form heaves from the exertion it’s only because he’s too spent to be bothered with moving her. And his hands only come up to stroke over her back because he’s hoping the movement might make her sleepy enough to stop clinging to him so tightly and brushing soft kisses over his collarbone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s all it is. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She does fall asleep on top of him that night, and the Master would forever deny that he had lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs, laying her down in the bed they shared gently, and he would certainly never admit to having to fight the alarming sudden urge to brush a kiss to her forehead once he’d done so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thursday comes around quick, and he endures the painfully polite dinner he has to sit through with their neighbours with as much forced charm as he can muster, the benefits of being on the Doctor’s good side outweighing those of riling her for now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will we see you at the wedding on Saturday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master startles a little as he tunes into the conversation, glancing up at Mrs Peters where she perches on the settee next to the Doctor, cup of after-dinner coffee in hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” The Doctor drops her eyes. “We actually - well, um, you see we would love to, it’s only, O and I -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course we’ll be there,” the Master jumps in before he can think twice. “We’re looking forward to it - aren’t we love?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s wide eyes jump to his before she catches herself and gives a hasty nod, pasting on a beaming smile for Mrs Peters. “Yes, can’t wait!” She eyes him curiously as Mrs Peters launches into excited details and the Master simply raises his eyebrows innocently before she looks away, hiding a small smile in her coffee cup. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was only because he felt sorry for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d looked so desperately pathetic as she’d floundered for an excuse, he couldn’t bear to watch it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sidles up to him as they wave goodbye to their dinner guests at the door, and he turns round to her beaming smile as he shuts it behind them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you didn’t want to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master sighs, rolling his eyes. “I just couldn’t stand you moping around. You look awful sour when you’re pouting,” he ribs, but his jibes can’t seem to dent her mood, and she just grins wider and leans in, quick as a flash to plant a kiss on his cheek before she scurries off to tidy away the cups and plates. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he wanders into their bedroom after a quick wash later that night, the Doctor is already waiting for him, standing from her dressing table and dropping the gown she’d had over her bare form as she walks towards him, and the Master wonders why he’d wasted so much time antagonising her to begin with. Having her happy and willing and pliant beneath him was so much easier...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was because he hated her. Because the whole </span>
  <em>
    <span>point</span>
  </em>
  <span> of this stupid idea had been to make her miserable, have her infuriating, arrogant self as his subservient wife, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>lesser</span>
  </em>
  <span> - so he could finally bend her to his will easily, just for a little while. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s a little rougher with her that night, ordering her onto her hands and knees and fucking into her until she’s mewling, little high pitched sounds that belie an edge of pain. She doesn’t seem to complain though, clenching hard around him with a gasp just before he finishes where he’s flipped her onto her back and hauled her legs up over his shoulders, and curling up under the duvet with a satisfied sigh after turning to plant a contented kiss on his lips when they are done. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master props himself up on an elbow and watches her form in the darkened room as her breathing evens out where she’s curled away from him. Her blonde hair is fanned across the pillow, slightly tangled from sweat and his hands, and a bare shoulder peeks out of the covers, arm flung out in front of her. She looks peaceful like this - and it’s strange to stop and study her as so. He so rarely caught the Doctor in moments of rest, and never had she looked as… </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft</span>
  </em>
  <span> as she does now. Harmless. As insignificant as the person next door. She doesn’t look like she could harm a fly at the moment, and in this form, he thinks she probably wouldn’t. She shifts in her sleep, making a small sound as she nuzzles into her pillow, and something feels heavy and uncomfortable between the Master’s ancient hearts. Indigestion, probably. That bread pudding had been far too heavy on top of the meat pie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her head has turned slightly on the pillow so he can see the side of her face more clearly in the soft moonlight filtering in through the gap in the curtain, and it strikes the Master how beautiful her soft features are. He’d always been more aesthetically driven than her - pretty things caught his eye easily, whereas the Doctor had always been a bit blind to visual beauty. He suspected she didn’t even know how attractive she was this time around. He’d been delighted when she stepped out of her Tardis in the outback, and delighted further when he finally got to put his hands on this pretty new body of hers, finding it soft and perfect and subtly rounded in all the right places. He’d never had a sexual preference for male or female forms, but it was convenient that she’d come out like this and he as he was - they were even similar in height, the Master with only an inch or so on her, but her slight enough to still feel petit against him, and the dynamics in his favour in this arrangement. It was like she’d been made for him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bespoken</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After all - none of this would have been possible with a male Doctor of course - or one that had looked significantly older than this him like her last had. And yes, fine it was a low blow to use the form she’d regenerated into against her in this way, even for him, somebody who knew far better than these primitive humans that the body you were born into dictated nothing of who you were nor should it be used to determined how others treat you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>but she’d done it to him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Master still hasn’t forgiven the Doctor for ripping off his perception filter and throwing him to the Nazis back in Paris, and in his eyes, this is fair payback. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fairer</span>
  </em>
  <span> than she deserved, even. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Scowling at her back in the dark as those awful memories are dredged up, the Master suddenly can’t bear to look at her lying there, the picture of innocence a moment longer, and lurches up out of bed and away from her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea is on her hands and knees, scrubbing brush in hand and bucket of soapy water beside her as she scrubs at the tiles of the kitchen floor. Her mind wanders as she works - it’s a mindless task but she finds it rather therapeutic, watching the red tiles turn bright under her work as her thoughts drift. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar had been quiet that morning, and Thea huffs irritably to think of how she’d barely been able to ring a word out of him, and the way he’d snapped at her when she’d asked about when he would be home. She tries not to dwell on it - she’s used to his moods, and the swing in them had been especially sharp of late. He’d probably be fine again later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits back on her heels, taking a breather and rubbing the back of her hand over her forehead, arching her back to stretch it out. It was aching bent over like this, and it didn’t help that her thigh muscles were screaming at her today too. Thea’s cheeks flush red when she thinks of that, recalls the reason she was aching so, a flash of her knees up by her shoulders, legs pressed against her chest as her husband had thrust deep and hard into her -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Biting her lip, Thea squirms where she sits as she feels heat flood her insides and dampness pool between her legs. O had made her feel like her body was on fire last night, and the sensory memory alone is enough to make her want to whimper and press her thighs together. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Thea,” she mutters to herself, “gotta get this floor finished, no good thinking about things like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>when you’ve got things to do.” Dunking her brush back in the bucket she sloshes some more soapy water onto the tiles and leans forward to resume her task. Unfortunately though, Thea can’t seem to listen to herself, and as she scrubs she can’t help but think of the way O had felt inside her, the way her body had shuddered and broken apart beneath him, and then she’s imagining him taking her like this again, on her hands and knees but right here, fingers tight on her hips as he drove himself into her -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea lets out a shriek when two hands grasp her waist, and almost knocks the entire bucket of water everywhere as she flails to turn round.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar!” She yelps at her smirking husband’s face. “What are you - how did you - what are you doing here!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I live here,” he says cheekily, tightening his grip on her and pushing her back onto her hands and knees as she tries to turn round.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes but - what are you doing home!? You’re supposed to be at work - and you scared the </span>
  <em>
    <span>life</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of me!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he gives a giggle. “Had an hour free for lunch. Thought I’d… come and see you…” He has shifted as he’d spoken the words and Thea gasps as he unceremoniously throws the skirt of her dress up over her waist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O -!” She squeaks when she feels him grasp her knickers and tug them down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I see you’ve been thinking about me,” he comments smugly, and Thea feels her cheeks </span>
  <em>
    <span>burn. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Quite a bit, by the looks of it,” he continues, and she gasps when she feels his thumb drag over her slick heat, feels him tug at her folds, pulling her open before he releases her and shifts his hand to rest on the curve of her arse. When he speaks again his voice is low right by her ear, and Thea is trembling. “Want me to make it all better?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she breathes, the word tumbling immediately from her lips as heat floods her body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She feels him pause. “Say please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” Thea whispers, hand clenched tight around the scrubbing brush she still clutches, fingers of her other hand curled into the tiles as she waits for him to fill her, uncaring how out of control and desperate he made her feel anymore, uncaring of how depraved kneeling on her kitchen floor with her skirts round her waist was. “Darling please,” she reiterates when he hasn’t moved, and then she feels his hands grip her hips, feels him shifting behind her - but to her shock it’s not his cock she feels next like she expects but his -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh!” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm,” he hums in agreement against her, the vibrations of his voice making her gasp, feeling herself twitch against his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouth. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“O,” she pants, trying to squirm away but his hands keep her pinned in place. “O wha- oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She groans when she feels him open his mouth wide over her and run the flat of his tongue over her dripping core from top to bottom. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She drops her head, arms trembling, and has to bite back a shriek when she feels his tongue swirling around her entrance, before he dips it </span>
  <em>
    <span>inside</span>
  </em>
  <span> and - this was - Thea’s whole face was burning to think of his face pressed right up against her </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span> but the pressure and heat and his tongue - oh god, his tongue… it was all sending shockwaves of pleasure so intense through her all she could do was bite back moans and try not to rock back against his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groans against her, Thea gasps as she feels the vibrations, everything in her body already tightening and coiling like a spring ready to snap - and she’s just preparing herself to reach a climax embarrassingly quickly when suddenly the heat of O’s mouth is gone and he’s tapping her hip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Up, here,” he tugs at her, and limbs weak, Thea let’s him pull her to her feet and maneuver her the couple of steps to the kitchen table, hoisting her up onto it. She collapses back as he shoves her dress up again and tugs her underwear the rest of the way down and off her legs and pushes her knees apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea lays panting on the table, wet and aching, blinking up at her husband dazedly as he methodically pulls out a chair and drops down into it, scooting himself in close to the table, right between her legs. She lets out a shuddering breath, hips tilting towards him eagerly as Oscar leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, hands looping round her thighs and -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much more intimate than their previous potion, O’s dark eyes locked onto hers as he leans in and breathes hot air between her legs, before opening his mouth and letting her watch him lap his tongue up between her folds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moans, a desperate, wanton noise that comes from the back of her throat, eyelids fluttering as white hot pleasure shoots through her again. Her nails curl into the wood of the kitchen table by her sides, thighs already trembling a little as her husband laps at her rhythmically and she tips her head back, body arching as she gasps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brings her to the edge of that beautiful crest of pleasure again quickly, and there’s nothing Thea can do to prevent the cry of ecstasy from leaving her open mouth when he tips her over it. She hears the scrape of the chair as O presumably gets up from his seat, and when she opens her eyes, not even certain when they’d slid closed, he is standing between her legs, extracting a hanky from his pocket and wiping his mouth as he smirks down at her. Thea blushes red down to her toes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tosses the hanky to the table beside her when he’s done. “See you at dinner time,” he says, bending to drop one last kiss right to her aching core with a smirk, making her hips twitch as she gasps, before he grabs his hat off the table, plops it back on his head and is gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea can only lay there for a moment, chest heaving and body quivering lightly as she tries to catch her breath, before she realises she’s literally spread out on her kitchen table with her legs splayed and her dress round her waist, and scrambles to right herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She can’t find her underwear. She didn’t know where O had tossed them but Thea searches the entire kitchen and has to conclude that the piece of delicate fabric is gone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d taken them, the smug bastard. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cheeks still a little pink despite the fact there was nobody there to witness her embarrassment, Thea hurries upstairs and replaces her underwear before moving back down to the kitchen to resume her earlier task of cleaning it (which now also included giving the kitchen table a thorough scrub down too…). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is distracted the rest of the day, and by the time she gets an hour to herself and settles down on the settee with a book, Thea can’t concentrate on the words, her thoughts drifting back constantly to her husband. She is… a little confused by their encounter that lunchtime. O had given her pleasure whilst getting or asking for none in return, and Thea is certain that’s the first time it’s ever been like that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For years she’d felt like… sex was just something that happened when you were married, and it was her duty to let her husband have her like that when he desired. She wanted him to be happy - that was the point of her being his wife, wasn’t it? And performing her marital duties were simply part of that, it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t get out of it. But Thea doesn’t ever remember sex feeling quite like it had lately, nor does she recall it happening as frequently. It was like Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off her suddenly - and to her shock, Thea felt more and more the same. He’d awakened a yearning inside her, made her feel so exquisite over and over again that she found herself drifting off during the day, remembering the feel of him inside her, his body against hers and suddenly finding her underwear alarmingly damp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And </span>
  <em>
    <span>today</span>
  </em>
  <span>… today had been different. Very different. She’s not naive enough to have never heard of such a thing but she’s quite certain O had never used his mouth on her in that way before, never been focused so purely on her pleasure whilst seeming uncaring of his own. What had been the point? Had he just liked to see her come so undone? It had left her with a slightly alarmed, weird feeling when he’d strolled out whilst she still lay panting and half naked on her kitchen table (of all places!?) And perhaps he had found that amusing at her expense. She wasn’t sure </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> to make of his erratic moods lately, and the way he could make her body burn was still slightly unnerving in its intensity. Perhaps if he’d at least paused to kiss her before he left… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea gives herself a shake and sets down her book, deciding she needed a better task to keep her occupied until it was time to get dinner started. The Peters’ wedding, that she and O were apparently now going to (another confusing development when he’d made such an awful drama about not going the weekend before - she doesn’t want to dredge up those particular memories), was just tomorrow, and Thea had to make sure she and O both had something suitable to wear. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not difficult to dig out a smart suit and tie for O, and she lays them out on a chair to press tomorrow morning, before rummaging through her side of the wardrobe for something fitting that would also compliment the blue tie she’d picked out for him. She tosses most of the dresses she owns over her shoulder, muttering irritably, hating more than one with a passion (</span>
  <em>
    <span>pink flowers!? What had she been </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinking), until there, in the back of her wardrobe, her eyes land on a deep blue fabric that hangs heavy and elegant and is just the perfect shade to match O’s tie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls it out and moves over to the mirror, holding it up against herself and tilting her head as she eyes herself critically. It was beautiful, a deep shade of blue with off the shoulder sleeves and delicate buttons down the front, a small waist and flared skirt with full petticoats beneath to make it hang just right by her calves. She was sure she could find some gloves to go with it and she had a perfect pair of shoes to match… but Thea couldn’t help but feel like it was missing something. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unsure what she’s looking for, she tosses it to the bed and turns to rummage through her bottom drawer where she keeps all manner of threads, trims, ribbons and bits and bobs for mending. She mutters to herself as she flings stuff out, getting increasingly frustrated and ready to give up and just leave the dress as it is, when there in the back of the drawer, her fingers close around a reel of thick ribbon, and she holds it up to her face with a delighted grin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I struggled with this chapter, like the words kept getting in a tangle and I'm feeling a little insecure about this story and what's to come so if it reads badly I'm sorry. I'm trying - your wonderful comments give me so much encouragement, and know that I read them and re-read them over whenever I feel like I want to give up &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Don’t you think that’s a little… </span>
  <em>
    <span>garish</span>
  </em>
  <span> for a wedding?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For a wedding? You can’t be too bright and colourful for a wedding - weddings are brilliant. I love weddings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea hears Oscar sigh from next to her as they stroll down the street, her satin-gloved hand tucked under his elbow. She smooths her free hand over the front of her dress, fingers toying with the thick, rainbow-coloured ribbon she’d stitched round the waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t blame me if people stare at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody’s gonna stare at me darling - they’ll all be looking at the bride. I bet she looks beautiful - Mrs Peters said she was stunning and the dress sounded wonderful from her description. Nobody’s going to glance at </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, are they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears him give a soft scoff and turns her head to glance at him curiously. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her husband sighs, shaking his head. “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” He mutters, rolling his eyes a bit like the statement irritates him. It’s so unexpected that Thea stops dead in her tracks, the sudden movement making O turn to face her. He frowns. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You -“ Thea catches herself when her voice comes out high pitched and surprised and quickly continues in a rush; “you think I look beautiful?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” O looks awkward, shifting on his feet. He gestures to all of her with his hand. “Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea blinks. “You’ve never said that to me before…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be ridiculous,” Oscar says, turning to resume walking and making Thea have to jog to fall back into step with him. “We’re married. Of course I have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something inside her buzzing happily, cheeks a little pink, Thea slips her hand back through her husband’s arm, and leans in a little closer to him as they make their way to the town hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The band is already playing and the atmosphere lively when they step inside, and Thea catches sight of the Peters immediately and drags O over to say hello, gushing over the bride and groom when they’re introduced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They mingle for an hour or so, Thea chatting to as many guests as she can. Oscar joins in with polite charm whenever she elbows him - but she does have to keep doing so to keep his attention on the conversations. It’s… strange. He can be </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> charismatic, have the group of people they’re standing with hanging off his every word, then the next moment she catches him staring at her darkly and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world. It makes her feel a little on edge - like the charming side of him and bright conversation he offers the other guests when prompted to do so is false and forced despite being extremely convincing in the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He mutters something about checking out the bar after a while, and Thea lets him wander off, actually quite relieved to be able to socialise without having to worry about how her husband is coming across every few minutes. She makes friends with a lovely older couple who live two streets away, and then somehow finds herself invited to a weekly women’s book club run by a very chatty lady who has so much makeup on Thea thinks it a wonder she can still move her face. Soon after she finds herself absorbed into a conversation about the mechanics behind the new coloured televisions that have been rumoured with a group of young chaps by the buffet table, and her eyes eventually drift across the room and catch sight of her husband lurking by the bar alone, drink in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me boys,” she mutters, weaving her way across the room to Oscar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slips up beside him, touching a hand to his arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we dance?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up at him hopefully as he turns to raise his eyebrows at her, bottom lip caught between her teeth and bouncing a little on her feet, and sees him sigh, shoulders dropping as he gives a nod an offers her his hand. Beaming bright, Thea takes the drink from his other hand and sets it down on the bar behind them, then allows her husband to lead her onto the dancefloor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The band are playing a lively, upbeat song, and O swings her round into his arms and proves himself more than capable of holding a rhythm (had they ever danced together before? They must have done - at least at their own wedding, surely -), making her laugh delightedly when he spins her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks bright as they dance together, his features lighter than she remembers seeing them in years (but distantly familiar, strangely?) and Thea can’t keep from smiling as he pulls her into his arms and rests a hand on her waist. Thea herself has two left feet, really - but she loves dancing, and she never cared enough about what other people thought for her out of time steps to bother her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dance their way through the next several songs, taking a break to get some drinks before O lets her tow him back onto the dance floor and pull him into a lively jive. They are both flushed and panting by the time it’s over and Thea is grinning from ear to ear, and as the music changes to a slower song she doesn’t hesitate in stepping in close to her husband, arms sliding up over his shoulders as his own come to settle on her waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t speak for a moment, Thea letting O sway them gently to the music, listening to the soft tune as she catches her breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O,” she murmurs, head on his shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea lifts her head to smile at him. “Thank you for bringing me here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You brought yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know but - oh you know what I mean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offers her a small smile and nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m having a really nice time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tilts his head at her. “Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” She curls her fingers in his hair at the back of his neck, and licks her lips, gaze dropping to his mouth. “Kiss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar hesitates, glancing around and looking unsure for a split second before he leans in, closing the small gap between them and pressing his lips gently to hers. Thea gives a contented sigh, melting against him, feeling his hands tighten on her waist, and when they break apart she’s smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns at her. “Why are you grinning like that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea gives a laugh. “Because I’m happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O stares at her. “You’re… happy,” he repeats. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” she chuckles, leaning in to press another kiss to his cheek, turning her head to let her mouth brush his ear, “You make me happy, darling,” she breathes into it, and just like that, every muscle in O’s body seems to go tense against her. She moves back to look at him curiously. “O?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m…” she sees the Adam’s Apple in his throat bob as he swallows and then he’s pulling out of her arms. “I need some air,” he mutters, turning and slipping away through the crowds before Thea can even offer to accompany him. Frowning after him, she forces down the uneasy feeling in her gut at his sudden change in demeanour and without a partner, hurries off the dance floor so as not to look a fool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She finds herself chatting to some ladies by the buffet table, and sees O re-enter the room after a short while. He scans the hall and locks eyes on her, but he doesn’t come over, instead turning his back and skulking back over to the bar. Well. That’s fine - Thea didn’t need to be glued to his side all night, and she was perfectly glad of the opportunity to meet some more new people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly finds herself pulled into a conversation with a group of women all around her age when one of them compliments her dress as she walks past. They gush over the rainbow ribbon she’d stitched round the middle and Thea smugly makes a note to tell Oscar about it later. Too garish for a wedding indeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And there’s Mrs Phillips who makes all her children’s clothes herself!” Says Maude, a petit lady with dark hair pinned neatly up on her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how she has the time,” the woman to her right Thea can’t remember the name of interjects, “Five children she’s got, all under seven too! My two are bad enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh I’m so thankful my Suzie is old enough to start helping around the house now,” Says Lucy to Thea’s left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucky for you,” Maude pitches in, “My three are all boys.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The women all hum sympathetically, and then suddenly Thea finds all sets of eyes on her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any children Thea?” Lucy prompts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - no, no children,” She answers, a bit startled by the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” The blonde she thinks is named Ethel pipes up, “Have you not been married long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no we have, we’ve been married… some years now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maude tilts her head at her. “And no children at all?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um,” Thea finds herself blinking rapidly, a little surprised by the turn of this conversation. “No…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you must plan to have some, surely?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea opens and closes her mouth. “Well, I -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lucy,” Thea sees the lady next to her elbow Lucy in the side, “It’s not polite to pry,” she mutters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s fine - really,” Thea says, forcing a breezy tone that sounds false even to her own ears. She takes a hasty sip of the drink in her hand, feeling a little awkward as a stiff pause settles over the group and looks of sympathy are cast her way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Susan I love your purse! What shop was that from?” Maude says brightly steering the conversation away from her, and Thea mutters her excuses and ducks away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s heading over to the bar for another drink and to look for Oscar, trying to shake the conversation from her head, when a man steps in front of her path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A face I don’t recognise!” He says, and offers her a friendly smile and his hand. “Jim Chambers - do you know the bride or groom?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea Smith,” she says, taking it politely, “And - groom, I suppose, although not personally. His parents are my neighbours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah so you’re local? Interesting, I live just down on Cooks Lane. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around town before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea shrugs. “Maybe you have and you just don’t remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he narrows his eyes at her a little playfully, scrutinising her. “No. I wouldn’t forget a face like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well - yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea tilts her head. “Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well because you’re -” Mr Chambers cuts off, and laughs, shoving a hand through his hair and suddenly looking a bit nervous. Thea feels like she’s missed something but isn’t quite certain what. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So who do you know then - bride or groom?” She says to break the awkward pause. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, groom originally but I know them both well now. Michael and I worked together in finance some years back before he left to work for his father, but we kept in touch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea nods politely. “That’s nice. They make a lovely couple, don’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wonderful,” Jim Chambers agrees, then casts a curious glance at her. “Say, how long have you lived around here? I still think it odd we haven’t met before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - years,” Thea replies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really? When did you move in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh well, that was… do you know I don’t recall?” She shrugs, forcing a smile. “Must have been that long ago. Right after Oscar and I got married I think it was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re - married?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes - he’s around here somewhere. Are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh no,” he chuckles, looking strangely disappointed. “All the pretty girls seem to be taken.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure that’s not true. Maybe there’s somebody here tonight for you?” She smiles and Jim shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d hoped so,” he says breezily. “So this husband of yours - where does he work?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Down in town - I forget the name of the company. He’s a financial advisor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“McGreggors and Sons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - well that other place across the square… begins with a T?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea shrugs. “Might be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim tilts his head at her. “Might be? Has he not been there long?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no he has, I’m just not very good with names.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jim chuckles. “You won’t forget mine I hope?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea smiles back and opens her mouth to reply when a hand grips her elbow tightly, making her jump before she turns her head to see her husband standing by her shoulder. “O,” she says, turning to him with a smile. “Darling this is Jim Chambers - Mr Chambers, my husband Oscar,” she introduces them, “Mr Chambers works in finance too - maybe you’ve crossed paths?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, don’t think so,” O answers shortly with barely a glance at her new friend, “Can I speak to you? Privately,” he stresses, gripping her a little tighter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh - of course darling - nice to meet you Mr - Oscar!” She gasps when he yanks her away and starts dragging her none too gently through the crowds, “You didn’t let me say goodbye! That was rude!” Thea digs her heels in, coming to a stop somewhere in the middle of the dancefloor and yanking her arm from his grasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O turns to her with a dangerous glare and leans in. “Let’s not make a scene here, </span>
  <em>
    <span>my love</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he says through gritted teeth, “People are staring.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A quick glance round tells her that O is right - a few of the couples dancing around them have turned to look at them, and Thea relaxes when he takes her arm again, cheeks flushing a little as she mutters “fine,” and lets O tow her the rest of the way across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that for!?” She snaps when he’s pulled her into the little empty hallway by the lobby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her husband whirls on her, taking her breath away when he shoves her into the wall, back hitting it with a thump. “What do you think you’re doing, telling strangers all of our business!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha - I wasn’t -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I heard you! Where we live, how long we’ve been there, what I do - everything but your mother’s bloody maiden name - you don’t know who these people are!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea yanks her arm free from his grasp. “It was polite conversation!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was interrogating you and you didn’t even realise - how </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> can you get!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>interrogating</span>
  </em>
  <span> me - what’s gotten into you!? Why are you being so paranoid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>being paranoid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m just trying to keep you safe,” he growls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Safe from what!?” She scoffs, pushing at him, trying to get some space between them. “These are just people - neighbours mostly. And it’s not like we’ve got anything to hide!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sees Oscar clench his jaw, looking sharply away from her and frowns, tilting her head at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?” She makes a point of saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course not,” he snaps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, then I’m going back to my new friends.” She makes to push past him away from the wall but he refuses to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not to talk to that man,” he says, and Thea frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” she snaps back, and realises her mistake the second the words have left her lips, a split second before rages crosses over Oscar’s face and in the next breath he has her pinned hard to the wall with his hand around her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oscar!” She gasps out, eyes wide.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Telling you what you can and can’t do here is </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>what I can do,” he growls, squeezing tighter. “I am your </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>mine</span>
  </em>
  <span> and you will do exactly as I say!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea gasps for breath as his hand presses up against her windpipe, her own hands flying to his wrist to try to pry his iron grip from around her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O - please!” She squeaks out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses harder. Fury is swirling in his dark eyes and Thea feels like a trapped animal - a mouse in the claws of a lion who could tear her throat out in a second, and fear crawls down her spine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you can’t keep your mouth shut I don’t want you talking to anyone else, do you understand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Os - car,” she chokes out, nails digging into his forearm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Understand!?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes!” She gasps, and coughs when he releases her, doubling over, her hands going to her neck as she gasps for breath. She stays bent over like that for a long minute, focusing on drawing air steadily into her lungs, her heart pounding and legs shaky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could have killed me!” She accuses when she pushes herself back up to lean back against the wall, but she is met only with an empty hallway. O is gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really can't thank you all enough for your amazing comments and words of encouragement on the last chapter, you honestly had me in tears a little bit haha. I feel like my replies to your comments can't even express how much I appreciate it so just know that I really really do, thank you! ❤️</p><p>I flew through this chapter and the next one - ended up splitting a longer one into two - so that's done and ready to go too so I'll post it up soon! I really hope you all liked it ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just a quick note to remind you to please heed the tags and warnings on this story and read with caution/avoid if you're likely to be triggered.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You’re not going to sulk the whole way home are you? I’m just trying to protect you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea walks quietly beside her husband, a couple of feet between them as they tread the darkened streets back towards their house. They hadn’t stayed all that long after their encounter in the hallway, Thea spending fifteen minutes or so in a bathroom stall trying to get herself together (and waiting for the reddened marks from the press of his hand against her neck to fade), then circling the room again, hovering quietly by the buffet table and nibbling some mini cakes before O’s hand had closed around her elbow and he’d muttered “time to go,” darkly in her ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I just think you overreacted,” Thea replies shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears him give a short, irritated puff of air from next to her, but he doesn’t speak again and they complete the rest of the journey home in silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea kicks off her shoes by the door and shrugs out of her coat, not waiting to take Oscar’s before she turns and heads up the stairs, getting straight into bed in mind. Her stomach sinks a little when she hears his footsteps following after her; she’d hoped he would skulk about downstairs for a bit, pour himself a brandy like he often did of an evening. It was still relatively early after all, and then Thea could hope to be asleep by the time he joined her (or at least pretend). She can scent the alcohol he’d consumed at the wedding as he slips into their bedroom right behind her and supposes he doesn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> anymore to drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve still got your shoes on,” She says curtly as she hears him close the door behind them, pulling her gloves off with her back to him, tossing them onto the bed. “I’ve told you a hundred times to take them off downstairs - who do you think cleans the carpets when you track dirt all the way upst - mmph!” She cuts off with a surprised squeak when he seizes her from behind, one hand clamping over her mouth and cutting her words short before he spins her to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve talked too much tonight,” O says, releasing her, and a glint appears in his eyes that sets Thea’s heart beating fast as uneasiness runs through her. “Luckily I know the perfect way to shut you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you -” Thea cuts off as her husband starts to unbuckle his trousers with one hand and pushes at her shoulder firmly with the other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kneel down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a second’s hesitation, Thea finds herself doing as he asks, eyes wide as O undoes his trousers and draws out his cock, stroking his hand over himself right in front of her face, letting her watch him harden as he threads his other hand into her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Open your mouth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea’s wide eyes flick up to his as her stomach flips. “But - I’ve never - I don’t know if I can - I mean I don’t know how -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can,” he smirks like he knows something she doesn’t, and tightens his grip in her hair. He brings his cock to her lips with his other hand. “Open,” he repeats firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea kneels there, heart pounding, debating how cross her husband would be if she refused. She’s angry and upset from his display at the wedding party and didn’t exactly feel like catering to his whims tonight… but the hand in her hair grips firmly, pulling a little - she knows he’s already irritated with her enough tonight, and Thea isn’t entirely sure she wants to find out what pushing him further might do. Swallowing hard, she glances up into his face once more before she lets her lips part and feels him press the tip of his cock immediately between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s it,” he sighs, head dropping back as he presses into her, heavy and hot inside her mouth. “Good girl,” he smirks like it’s an inside joke she’s not privy to. “Look at you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s surprised to find she doesn’t really </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind</span>
  </em>
  <span> the feel of him inside her like this - it feels… a lot less depraved than she had imagined it would, and as she gives a hesitant suck and hears him groan, to her surprise Thea feels herself burn and grow wet between her legs. Resolving to just get this over with quickly so she could go to bed and try and forget what had happened earlier, she focuses on the noises he makes, gaining confidence with every gasp and moan, her hands coming up to grip his thighs as he starts to rock his hips into her. His thrusts are shallow at first, and Thea is just relaxing into the motion when the hand in her hair tightens as he shoves his hips forward with a grunt, and she has to fight to urge to gag as he hits the back of her throat. She hears him make a sound above her, and lifts her eyes to see him smirking down at her, his gaze dark as he pants, urging her to move her head with the hand in her hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I always knew - you’d look pretty with my cock in your mouth - this time…” he groans, a blissed out expression on his face, his words baffling her a little. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This time? </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Come on - that’s a good girl,” he continues, pulling at her hair a little painfully, hips pressing forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea tries to relax her throat and let him in deeper, but he’s big and uncomfortable now she has more of him in her mouth, and her jaw is starting to ache. The urge to gag rises up again when he bumps against the back of her throat, forcing himself deeper, pulling her head down onto him until it’s too much and she pushes him away, coughing and spluttering as he withdraws from her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>O gives her a moment, letting her get her breath back before he tightens his hold in her hair and presses himself to her lips again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea turns her head, making a small sound of protest. “I can’t, I’m sorry,” she mumbles, and is relieved when he pulls her to her feet, both of them panting as he turns and presses her to the wall. He pins her there with his hands and his dark gaze, and Thea’s eyes widen, thinking perhaps he was going to be cross with her for stopping, when to her surprise he leans in to capture her parted lips in a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s nothing like the kiss they shared on the dancefloor. There, Thea had felt content and warm in his arms, his hands resting lightly on her waist as her own had fiddled with the back of his hair, his lips pressing back gently against hers. Now… Oscar leans all his weight against her, his mouth rough over hers, Thea’s own lips still and passive against his as he forces his tongue between them and grips her jaw hard in his hand. Her heart is pounding hard and she feels trapped against the wall here like she had in the hallway at the wedding, and that feeling makes nerves tingle down her spine as her husband presses a hand between her legs, feeling her roughly through her skirts. His erection digs into her hip and she can smell the alcohol on her his breath and taste it too, mingling with the taste of him that lingers on her tongue and he feels hot - too hot pressed against her, his body too heavy as he leans hers into the wall, and Thea squirms, breaking the kiss and turning her head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m - I’m tired O,” she murmurs, the flimsy excuse tumbling from her lips quietly, but O seems heedless of her words, pulling her head back with that hand on her jaw so his mouth can latch onto her neck as he presses up between her legs, rubbing at her through her dress. “Oscar,” she mumbles, wriggling two hands between them and planting them on his chest to push at him. “I’m tired… please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please what?” He mumbles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please -“ but Thea doesn’t get a chance to finish when her husband abruptly yanks her away from the wall and drags her across the room to throw her unceremoniously down onto their bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She knows he’s wound up from her mouth, and she supposes it wouldn’t be fair to expect him not to finish what she’s started, so to speak, but the way he’s pinning her beneath him makes her feel trapped, and when his hand runs up over her chest and his fingertips ghost over her neck she has a vivid flashback to being held to the wall in the hallway at the party, his hand tight around her throat as he’d squeezed and remembers the genuine fear that had flashed through her as she’d struggled to drag in air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can we slow down?” Thea blurts out, pushing at him. “L-let me go on top.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” He mumbles against her neck, grinding his hips into hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - just -” She cuts off with a gasp when he grasps one of her nipples through her dress and squeezes, before shoving his hand down the front of it to pinch the bare flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea yelps at the sharp sting and O smirks when her body jolts against him. His hand slides up from her chest over her neck, and Thea inhales sharply, holding her breath as his fingers dance over her throat, right where he had pressed down earlier, and she squirms uncomfortably beneath him. She lets out the breath she’s holding when his hand slips from her neck to her jaw, but her relief is short lived when he glides his fingertips over her parted lips before pressing two between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sound of surprise leaves her throat as he shoves his fingers inside her mouth, pressing in and keeping them there even when she gags around the pressure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O -!” she tries to say around his fingers, attempting to push him away. Her heart is beating fast and Oscar is starting to frighten her with the dark intensity in his gaze, the way he only presses into her mouth harder when she pushes at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” he growls, grinding into her, “I know you like this…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gags around his fingers again, tears prickling behind her eyes from the pressure, and shoves at his hand with a muffled cry of frantic protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop fighting me,” he demands, a manic gleam in his eyes, “you like this - you like it like this -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses a third finger into her mouth and Thea has enough, biting down hard on his fingers until he gives an agonised yelp and yanks them from her mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has only a split second to be relieved as they stare at each other, Oscar shaking out his hand before he's grabbing her wrists instead, pulling them from where she’s pushing at him to pin them to the mattress beside her, his smiling mouth at her throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can bite too, my dear,” he informs her roughly, teeth grazing the tender part of her neck where he’d pressed down earlier that night, and Thea gasps, hating and not understanding that she grows wetter at his words even as uneasiness wraps round her insides. “I - Oscar wait I -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites at her skin, pinching a piece of flesh between his teeth sharply and releasing as she gives a cry only to move his mouth along and repeat the action.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea squirms beneath him, hands trapped either side of her head, all his weight on her wrists as he bites at her neck, so hard she was certain his teeth were piercing her flesh, hips rutting into hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O - you’re hurting me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks she hears a ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>’, growled against her skin and real panic starts to rise inside her. She struggles against his weight, crying out as he moves his mouth along and bites down in another spot. “Oscar stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her husband doesn’t seem to hear her, moving her wrists above her head so he can pin them there with one hand clamped around them, his other going to her skirts and dragging them up as she tries to buck him off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it - I said stop!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damnit why do you have to make everything so - difficult -” he grinds out as she tries to squirm away, twisting onto her side only for him to clamp her hips to the bed with a strong hand. “Keep still!” He snaps, “I am the Master and you will obey me!” He growls angrily and Thea feels cold horror settle inside her as she looks up into those dark eyes and sees not a hint of the man she had danced with earlier that night - only darkness and determined rage. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She can’t fight him. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea goes limp beneath him, turning her head to the side and squeezing her eyes shut as she feels O grasp hold of her underwear and drag it down her legs. He pushes her knees apart and a tear slips down Thea’s cheek as he shifts, settling between her thighs, her breath catching in her throat and a choked sob escaping her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She realises suddenly after a few long seconds have passed and she doesn’t feel him push into her like she’d been prepared for, that her husband has frozen on top of her, his rough frantic hands stilled and even his harsh ragged breathing paused like he’s holding it, and Thea blinks open her eyes just in time to see him scrambling abruptly off of her and the bed through blurred vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lies there for what feels like an age, but is probably just a mere succession of seconds, tears falling as she tries to get ahold of herself, her heart still racing in lingering panic even with his weight gone from over her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she dares to look up again the expression on his face takes her breath away. Shock, and… </span>
  <em>
    <span>horror. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He looks utterly stricken as he stares down at her and she swears his wide dark eyes are shining with unshed tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh god.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d overreacted. Had she overreacted? Her husband just wanted to make love, he… he’d just been a little rough with her - the alcohol. He was just drunk - she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he was drunk why hadn’t she just lain quietly and let him have her how he wanted instead of making such a drama over it and working them both up into a frenzy -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, Thea pushes herself up, wiping at her tears. “I’m sorry,” she says, sniffing back more tears. “I didn’t - we…” She holds out a trembling hand towards him, “O, I’m sorry. We can still make love if you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar stares at her hand, his expression unreadable, and then he’s shaking his head, stepping back and reaching down to yank up his trousers, almost tripping, pulling them up over his straining erection and turning to stumble from the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t reappear for hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, Thea debates going after him, but she’s confused and upset and hurting from the way he’d handled her - here in their bedroom and earlier at the party - and the sudden, erratic way his mood had flipped alarmed her. It made her feel terribly uneasy - like she had no way of predicting what he’d do next, or what mood she would find him in downstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she gets changed quietly and curls up in bed to lie there in the dark, running through everything that had happened in her head - both here and earlier that night and trying to make sense of it - trying to make sense of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea can’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally hears the staircase creek, she is relieved at the softness of his footsteps, yet her heart still pounds when she hears her husband creek open their door and shut it quietly behind himself. He pauses there for a moment, apparently hovering across the room, and Thea finds herself holding her breath. It’s a minute before she hears him pad across the room, and feels the covers lift and the dip of the mattress as he slips into bed behind her. She senses him settling on his side to face her, and after a moment feels the feather light touch of his hand on her arm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you still awake?” He murmurs, voice soft, and Thea debates pretending to be asleep. But her heart is going mad, beating so hard and fast she’s certain it’s audible, her breath coming out quick and Thea is sure its already fairly obvious she isn’t sleeping. She swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she whispers. Taking a deep breath, Thea shifts beneath the covers. “Here,” She murmurs, drawing her nightdress up over her thighs, shuffling back against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To her utter shock Oscar catches her hands in his own beneath the covers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright,” he says quickly “it’s late… we should both try and get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea goes still when she feels him carefully tug her nightdress back down. Her eyes are wide as she lays in the dark, almost holding her breath, feeling confused and uncertain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallows. “O, I’m -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” her cuts off her apology before it can leave her lips. “It’s alright. Just… get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice is as gruff as ever, but there’s an edge of softness to his words that isn’t usually present. Thea hesitates before nodding, trying to settle down and force her body to relax. It doesn’t work - she feels on edge and confused and anxious, and probably the little alcohol she had in her system and the chill in the room weren’t helping, and to Thea’s shock she feels herself start to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears O inhale sharply, and knows he’s felt her shivering and tries to lie still, telling herself to relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you cold?” He grunts after a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… I think so,” Thea whispers, “s-sorry… I’ll go fetch another blanket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She makes to get up out of the bed, but to her utter surprise she feels an arm wrap around her from behind, and freezes as O hesitates before he shuffles in close to her and draws her against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that better?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can only nod wordlessly, tense in his arms for long minutes before she processes the fact that he really is just </span>
  <em>
    <span>holding </span>
  </em>
  <span>her (had he ever done so, just for the sake of it?) And gradually starts to feel herself relax. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tremors leave her body, and Thea lifts an arm to rest it over his around her middle, letting out a little sigh as she sinks back against his solid form. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breath is warm on the back of her beck and his arm is heavy but comforting around her, relaxed enough that she feels protected rather than trapped in his embrace like this, and the exhaustion of the night starts to win over. Thea finally lets her eyes slide closed, and the last thing she swears she hears before falling asleep, is the whisper of her husband's voice in her ear, so soft it could be mistaken for an exhale that sounds like the words “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Umm I'm sorry? I hope you don't all hate me for this but it was very necessary to the plot... I've been fairly anxious about posting this one so I'd really really appreciate your thoughts! ❤️</p><p>Edit to say: can’t remember if I’ve mentioned it here before but follow me on twitter since all I seem to tweet about atm is this fic 😂 @_spoilersweetie (I’m on private atm bc I’m paranoid but follow me I’ll accept ☺️)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The room feels cold, despite the evening having been reasonably warm for the time of year in this climate and the bedroom windows tightly shut. But there’s a definite chill in the air that makes him pull the sleeping woman in his arms closer against him, as if he could absorb the warmth she radiates and let it heat his insides right down to his bones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master feels… empty.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor snuffles in her sleep, snuggling back a little closer in his embrace, and he tightens his hold on her automatically, like he could protect her from the cold like this, and all that she may need shielding from in her sleep.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For if he were being honest with himself, the only demon she faced here as Thea Smith was him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something had snapped within the Master a few hours prior, the reverberations of which he was still feeling acutely, especially now he had the Doctor in his arms, a physical reminder of how vulnerable and fragile she was like this. He could snap her neck now while she slept and she’d never even know anything about it, let alone be able to stop him. He wonders if he killed her in this human form, what would happen. Would she regenerate? Or would that be it? Did the Master finally hold in his arms the one way to end the Doctor, the oncoming storm, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>timeless child</span>
  </em>
  <span> once and for all? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a pity that it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>he realises he has no desire to truly do that at all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He remembers the feel of her in his arms just like this earlier that evening - as he’d danced with her at the wedding. He still didn’t know why he’d said yes, really, it had just slipped out unbidden when she’d looked up at him with hope in those eyes, so familiar to him no matter what face they were set into. He’d enjoyed it, it had been… </span>
  <em>
    <span>fun</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And it had been a very long time since the Master had found fun in something so innocent and trivial, something that didn’t wreak havoc and cause mayhem. The years and centuries and millennia slipped away as he had danced with the Doctor, and then the music had changed and they had moved closer together, her small form relaxing against him, letting him sway them gently and…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kiss me,” the Doctor had said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oh, to see the Doctor looking up at him with such openness in her eyes, asking for him to kiss her like a fool in love. He could gloat on that moment forever, but it wasn’t amusement that drove the Master to dip his head and oblige her with the brush of his lips against hers, nor was it with mirth that his hands had tightened on her waist, holding her tightly like he could keep her in that moment forever. She was a lot easier to deal with like this. An amenable Doctor a lot easier to tolerate. He’d kissed her back like she’d asked and been content to do so, until they’d broken apart and she’d moved her lips to his ear and said something that had thrown the Master’s head into turmoil. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You make me happy, darling.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Happy. He made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He…</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Master. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Made </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was all going wrong, everything was falling apart - this hadn’t been his plan, in fact it had been the complete opposite to his plan - he was supposed to make her miserable, not happy! He hated her. Hated everything that she was and everything that he’d become because of her and hated, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span>… that she was always going to be better than him. All he’d wanted was a little while to play at being the one who held all the control between them, a little sweet revenge in the best way for all the rage and pain she’d instilled inside him. But he’d got sucked in. To this stupid fake life - to </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, her infuriating aura of brightness and optimism. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And then he’d overheard her talking to some idiot human about herself, answering the intrusive questions he fired at her obliviously, and the Master was reminded how very fragile all of this was and frustrated with her for her naivety. Of course… the Doctor didn’t currently know there was any reason she needed to be careful about what she said and to whom, but that didn’t mean he was any less irritated with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Make her happy, he made her happy…</span>
  </em>
  <span> he would show her happy. He was losing control of the situation and he was going to take it back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rage had burst to life in his chest as he’d pinned her to the wall and reprimanded her for her stupidity, and the frustration had simmered inside him as they’d walked home, hardened into resolve. Part of him was tempted to grab her by the throat again once they reached their house, pin her to the inside of their front door, hold her there until the air started to drain from her lungs and demand to know how happy he made her </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But she’d been pressed against him all evening and he’d have been lying if he said the fire inside her he’d seen glimpses of since they’d been here didn’t excite him… the Master wanted to see her submitted in a different way. He wanted to remember what they were - see that fire turned to passion, the thought that she might come alive like that - like he could channel her rage into a different kind of energy and </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally </span>
  </em>
  <span>get what he was craving from her… too tempting to resist. Taking his frustration out on her in the best way possible, using her for what he wanted - </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> was the point of this whole scenario, wasn’t it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sweet kisses and slow dancing indeed. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Master</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and she was the bloody Doctor and the two of them together being anything less than explosive was utterly ridiculous. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So he’d pushed and pushed her, forced all his frustrations onto her, fanned at that fire in the belief it would become an inferno… but instead the heat inside Thea had died. For that’s who she was, and therein lay the problem. The Doctor could take all he gave her, the Doctor would have responded in kind, taken her anger out on him in the best kind of way but Thea… Thea didn’t understand. And worse, she didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> him like the Doctor did - didn’t trust him in that way, and ultimately all pushing her like that had done was terrify her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It shouldn’t have been a problem. He’d finally broken her - broken her like he’d failed to do in the matrix, like he’d dreamed of for the entirety of those infernal </span>
  <em>
    <span>seventy-seven years </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’d spent stuck on this planet thanks to her, the beautiful thought that kept him going, like a mantra in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Break the Doctor, crack her open with the knowledge you’ve learnt and watch her bleed...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Thea wasn’t the Doctor… the Doctor was strong and resilient after millennia of lifetimes and experience of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this person… this person was fragile and sensitive and Thea’s whole world was her husband. The Master had always dreamed of breaking the Doctor, but breaking a human version of her whose only current memories were of a dull life on 1950s earth and a husband who wore his face...  just didn’t pack the same punch. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Empathy… it was a funny thing. He’d thought himself incapable of it for so long now that to acknowledge its presence in his hearts was jarring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had sent him stumbling from the room - literally running away from her, the woman on the bed who held out a hand towards him and still offered her love (</span>
  <em>
    <span>“make love,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that was what he’d just tried to do with her -) to her husband even after he hurt her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shouldn’t care. Why did he care? Why did he feel so awful at the sight of true fear and hurt in her eyes it clawed at his insides and squeezed tight around his two hearts?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master had sat by the cold fireplace downstairs in silence for a long time. He tried to pour himself a brandy but his hands shook so hard around the decanter he hastily abandoned the idea so he could pretend they hadn't. Instead, he’d gone to his purple coat, hanging in the very black of the cupboard under the stairs and drawn out the pocket watch buried deep in the inside pocket to take it and sit in front of the fireplace, running his thumb over the gallifreyan symbols etched into the gold. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was the Doctor who insisted the object holding the key to changing her back to who she was was a pocket watch, he didn’t know why. Always some silly sentimental reason or two with the Doctor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> tempted to open it… just exhausted enough to toy with the idea of it - of bringing her back, letting her go back to hating his guts - she had plenty of fresh incentive to now. She could probably get that stupid device he’d been trying to build in the shed working in a day, and then they could track down the Tardis and get out of here. He could go, leave her to it - she could change herself human again if the judoon were still on her trail and go somewhere else to deal with it - away from </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Or they could come and drag her back to that prison for all he cared, at least this nightmare would be over for him either way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The idea was a nice fantasy, but one he knew he couldn't go through with. Not yet, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>now. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’d been sucked in too deep, and as much as he is loathe to admit it even to himself, that though it would be easier to let the Doctor hate him even more for what he’d done to her here… the Master is suddenly very unsure if that’s what he even wants anymore. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d eventually wrapped the pocket watch up in a hanky and tucked it safely back away in his coat, running a hand down the heavy rich material and lamenting that he was stuck with browns and greys and blacks in order to fit into this miserable place. With everything away, his feet had taken him quietly back upstairs - he’d only meant to check on her, but after he’d eased open the bedroom door and regarded her laying there, small form huddled beneath the blankets facing away from him, something drew him over to the bed and urged him to slip beneath the covers with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then still, despite what had taken place between them, this woman - the Doctor, ever naively forgiving, ever stupidly kind had offered herself to him, and it had made that ache in his chest clench tighter. She was so pathetic he wanted to shake her, knew he should laugh at what he’d reduced her to, but all he could do was pull her close when he noticed her trembling, wrap her up in his arms and pretend he deserved the right to comfort her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A couple of hours have passed since she’d fallen asleep, and the Master has been unable to bring himself to let her go. It’s only because he doesn’t want to jostle her awake, he tells himself - he doesn’t know what he will say to her in the light of day and for now a sleeping Doctor is a lot easier to ponder over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is jolted out of his thoughts suddenly to realise that she’s gone tense in his arms. At first he thinks she’s woken up, and tenses himself in response - but then after a few seconds of holding his breath he realises she is twitching lightly, lips moving like she’s trying to speak, and when he lifts his head to peer over her shoulder he sees the deep frown etched onto her face and recognises her state from before; she’s having a nightmare. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Waking her up would be the most obvious course of action, but the Master still doesn’t want to face her just yet. Besides - he isn’t certain seeing his face right now will be the best way for her to be roused from a bad dream. He holds her for another few minutes, hoping she’ll just sleep through it and the nightmare will fade, but the twitching in his arms only becomes more violent, and soft whimpers begin to leave her lips that sound so painfully distressed he can’t listen to them for another minute. He swallows hard, contemplating. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doing this is crossing a line with her in human form - she would never allow him inside her dreams in her right mind and he knows that… but he only wants to </span>
  <em>
    <span>help her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and chances are he can get in and out without her even realising it in her current state anyway. Resolved, the Master takes a deep breath and as she gives another whimper, he touches the fingertips of his hand to her forehead and closes his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The whoosh of air around his ears is loud and then the shock of the contrasting silence of the realm he finds himself in jarring. It’s dark - pitch dark, except for the Doctor standing in front of him, face contorted in fearful confusion. The Master’s stomach sinks. Not from the look on her face - he had expected that - but the Doctor - or Thea, as he supposes she is here, judging by the dress she’s wearing - is stood rigid, arms down by her sides and body trembling… surrounded by circular bars of light. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The paralysis field. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just like he’d held her in on gallifrey. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was what she was dreaming of? That was her nightmare?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know he’s here, can’t see him as he slowly circles around her, and just like back then she doesn’t seem to be able to move except for her head and eyes which dart around, lips moving quickly, like she's murmuring softly. He leans in closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Please let me go, let me go I can’t move, I’m trapped, please help me, somebody...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master isn’t stupid. He knows why she’s dreaming this - why her mind had jumped to a scenario where she felt like she was trapped. What utterly stuns him though, is that it had picked this one. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s frightened - terrified as she tries to thrash against the field holding her still - he can see it in her face. This is Thea… the Doctor… the Doctor hadn’t truly been afraid when he’d done this to her on gallifrey had she? She certainly hadn’t acted frightened - frustrated, annoyed - quietly furious with him, yes - all that he expected. A little flicker of fear he’d seen in her eyes for her friends, the worry that she wouldn’t be able to save him… but not fear for herself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Never</span>
  </em>
  <span> fear for herself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was her mind just tangling everything up, Thea with the Doctor? Thea who’d panicked at being held down beneath a husband she didn’t trust, with the Doctor who’d been trapped by that same man but held him only in contempt in her mind - just two completely different situations with one similarity bled together by an addled brain to form a nightmare?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea gives a cry of distress and the Master gives himself a shake, lurching forward. He places a hand on the bars of light, squeezes his eyes shut as he focuses all of his energy into forcing his way into the Doctor’s head, straining to bend her dream until it finally snaps beneath his hand and the bars of light shatter, releasing Thea and letting her drop. He catches her before she can hit the ground, and lays the unconscious woman gently down, smoothing her hair back from her face and casting a lingering look at her before he stands, content that the fear is vanquished from her mind for now, and withdraws himself from her dreams. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the Master blinks to find himself back in the small earth bedroom, the Doctor is sleeping soundly in his arms once more, and he shifts beneath her, suddenly exhausted from the mental strain of fighting her dreams and everything that came before, and lets himself drift off to sleep curled around her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He must have been more exhausted than he realised, for when the Master wakes it is morning, sunlight streaming in through a gap in the curtains, and he is alone in the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Faint sounds of movement drift up from the kitchen below, and the Master drags himself out of bed and dresses before heading downstairs, filled with trepidation at the thought of facing the Doctor after the night before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning.” He begins, when he moves into the kitchen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Morning darling,” the Doctor answers quietly without turning to look at him. “Scrambled eggs okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he answers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay. Sit down I’ll… bring it over,” she says, still with her back to him as she grabs out a pan and some butter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master clears his throat. “Thea,” he says, knowing he has to address it. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He watches as she visibly tenses, freezing in what she’s doing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He waits until she finally turns to face him, only to find she can only meet her eyes for a second before her gaze darts away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last night…” he begins, and sees her wide eyes jump back to his. He shoves a hand through his hair. “I had too much to drink. At the wedding.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea ducks her head, blonde hair falling across her face as she fiddles with her apron. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says quietly, “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches as she avoids his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” He pauses, unsure what he’s really trying to say - or why he’s trying at all. “I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Thea answers immediately, picking a thread on her apron and making him want to grab her and shake her, force her to meet his eyes, be ever the brave person he knows her as. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doing that would definitely </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> help the situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a hundred other things he could say. A dozen he probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>should say. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But although he’s seldom of a habit of keeping his emotions to himself, they are typically made up of rage and fury and pain that turns to more fury… this strange aching in his gut when he watches her avoid his eyes is foreign, and the Master isn’t quite certain what to do with it, wouldn’t have a clue how to even begin to go about voicing it… so he shoves it down. Clears his throat, nods his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well. Good,” he says, and leaves her to cook. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They barely speak through breakfast, and after he excuses himself to go off down into the shed - not because he feels particularly motivated to work on his energy device, but because he feels too awkward to be trapped in the house with a pretend wife who flinches everytime he accidentally gets too close. He doesn’t get far with his work - actually manages to make less progress than he had before when his hand slips as he’s fusing a couple of wires and he curses, smashing the thing with his fist in irritation and undoing all of the previous session’s work. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor brings him sandwiches and a cup of tea around lunchtime, leaving them outside the shed door and knocking, already halfway back to the house when he opens it. He eats them out of politeness despite not being particularly hungry, then brings his plate and cup back to the kitchen and informs her he’s going out for a walk before grabbing his coat and leaving the house, unable to think in close proximity to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks a walk will clear his head, but with nothing to occupy his hands as he strolls through their local park and tries to avoid as many polite exchanges of “what a lovely day,” he can, he finds his thoughts only dragged repeatedly back to the night before. There is one image he can not shake from his head; the Doctor, splayed out beneath him, dress up around her waist and tears rolling down her cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The image was a pitiful one, that made him feel… a lot of things, but none of it good. He didn’t know why… why should he care? He should revel in the vision of her so broken - but he didn’t. All it made him feel was ashamed, and that was not something the Master was used to experiencing, let alone admitting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He supposed it must be just… because he’d made her such an easy target. That was why ruining her felt so empty. She was too easy like this - too fragile and breakable, he needed only to make the wrong comment and he could probably have Thea Smith’s eyes filling with tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not what he’s used to. The Master could scream in the Doctor’s face and she’d barely blink, more than used to his temper and the way his mood could flip from calm to dangerous in a split second after all these years. Even as youngsters, the Master had not always had the greatest control over his emotions, namely his anger. Theta, as she had been back then, was often the only one capable of calming him when his rage got the better of him, or if she thought he was being particularly unreasonable she’d simply roll her eyes at him and wait it out until he came round. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sometimes, in their less friendly, more recent encounters she’d match his rage with her own, let him take it out on her in the most mutually beneficial way that left them both panting and sweaty and oftentimes bruised and bleeding but satisfied regardless. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea had none of those experiences in her mind. - None that she could access anyhow. When he turned his true rage on Thea, instead of tilting up her chin and standing defiant or coming back with her own anger just as strong, Thea just… crumbled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hated it, and hated the way it made him feel. He hated the thought of the Doctor so weak, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated</span>
  </em>
  <span> that sad image of her burnt into his retina. It was how he’d always dreamed of seeing her, but now he had done so he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having proven itself poor distraction, the Master tires of the park after half a dozen laps of it, and heads home. Spring is well underway now and leaves are popping out on the trees, flowers bursting to life along the front of people’s gardens. He hates that too, hates their cheery colours that don’t match his mood and the depressing situation he’s stuck in here. The Doctor seemed to like them - which figured. They always were polar opposites. He remembers the way her face had lit up when she’d thought he had brought them to her earlier that week and pauses in front of a particularly brightly coloured patch of pink and yellow tulips, even better than the ones in the Peters’ front garden. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs as he eyes the flowers, no longer fighting the desire to make amends to her. It was worth a try. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor is tidying in the kitchen when he walks in, and he hovers in the doorway a little awkwardly for a moment, hand clasped round a bunch of carefully selected tulips as he waits for her to notice him. He clears his throat after a minute, and the way she turns to face him without jumping belies that she knew he was there all along. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That…</span>
  </em>
  <span> no. She had every right to be off with him today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she says, surprised eyes flickering down to his hand. “Um…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“These are for you,” he says quickly, feeling beyond awkward as he holds them out towards her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she repeats, and after a second’s pause, crosses the small kitchen to him and carefully takes the proffered flowers from his hand. “Uh - thank you,” she says softly, hesitating before leaning in and pressing a hasty courtesy kiss to his cheek before turning quickly away to set them on the kitchen counter, opening the top cupboard presumably hunting for a jar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master clears his throat. “Have you started dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees her pause. “Not yet,” she says shortly. “I’m just about to, it won’t take -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns to look at him in surprise, little glass jar in hand and he sighs, running a hand through his hair before throwing it up, like it’s neither here nor there. “I mean - I was thinking we could go out. If you wanted. Save you having to cook tonight.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor stares at him. “For dinner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Somewhere in town. If you want. We don’t have to,” he adds hastily, “I just thought -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she cuts his rambles short. “Yes I’d -... that would be nice.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he nods. “Good.” They lock eyes for a moment before he looks away. “Leave in an hour then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah okay,” Thea says softly and he gives a nod before he turns to leave. “O?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The flowers are lovely.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t try to claim them as an apology, for the Master knows a bunch of flowers are poor consolation for what has happened between them. He clears his throat and nods once. “Good,” is all he says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope it wasn't too much of a jumble of thoughts, it was a difficult one to write. I'm going to say it again; I appreciate your support so much. The last chapter was a bit nerve-wracking to post and the positive response to it was amazing, thank you! I know this story is handling some difficult themes but there is a point to all of this and I hope you'll all stick with me to the end! Your comments are amazing because not only does the support give me so much confidence and push me to keep going but hearing your thoughts is so helpful as a writer - quite often little things have been mentioned in comments that spark ideas or remind me of certain things I need to remember to address. So thank you again!! I hope you all liked this latest chapter &lt;3</p>
<p>If you don't you should come follow me on twitter because this fic seems to be all I'm tweeting about these days 😂 @_spoilersweetie (I'm on private atm but I'll accept follow requests) and my inbox is always open too! :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Oscar pulls out a chair for Thea and she drops down into it, slipping her coat off as she mutters a “thanks”, and letting him throw it over the back of the chair. He moves round the table and sits down across from her, and Thea smiles at the waiter as he hands them their menus. </p><p>The restaurant is… a little more upmarket than Thea had expected, and she touches a hand to her hair self-consciously as she glances round at the other smartly dressed couples. </p><p>She leans in across the table. </p><p>“Are you sure we can afford this place?” She says quietly to her husband. “We could go somewhere different -”</p><p>“No,” he says firmly, and throws her a half smile. “Don’t worry about it.” </p><p>“Okay.” Thea nods and drops her eyes to her menu, scanning the contents quietly. </p><p>“Decided what you want?” O asks her after little while. </p><p>“I think so,” she nods. Oscar calls over their waiter and they order their food and drinks and the young man takes their menus and leaves them alone.</p><p>She glances at her husband and looks away quickly when she finds his dark gaze fixed on her. She fiddles with the napkin in front of her.</p><p>“Did you have a nice walk this afternoon?” She asks for something to say.</p><p>“Fine,” he answers. “Did you have a good day?”</p><p>“Fine,” Thea nods. </p><p>A stiff pause settles between them. O gestures to her. </p><p>“You should take off your scarf,” he says of the little silk piece of fabric she’s secured in a neat knot around her neck. Her wide eyes flick up to his. </p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Why because - we’re indoors and it looks silly.”</p><p>Her heart starts to pound as she stares at her husband across the table. Had he forgotten? Did he not remember the mess he’d made of her neck in his fevered state the night before?</p><p>She drops her gaze. “I can’t Oscar,” she says quietly. She’d covered up the bite marks best she could with a thick layer of makeup, but Thea still feels like it’s obvious.  </p><p>He starts to say something in response until their waiter arrives with the bottle of wine he’d ordered them, and he falls quiet as he pours them both a glass. O lifts his glass when they are left alone again, and brings it towards Thea’s until she does the same. </p><p>“What are we toasting?” She says as she clinks her own against his. </p><p>“You,” he shrugs simply and Thea takes a sip before setting her glass down and tilting her head. “Me?”</p><p>“Yes,” he says. “You look… nice.”</p><p>“Well thanks,” she can’t help the small smile that quirks at her lips. Her husband never had been the best with words. “And you’re right - you should keep the scarf on,” he says quickly, and she blinks at him. They lock eyes for a moment and Thea thinks he’s going to say something - and she <em> prays </em> he doesn’t bring it up because she really doesn’t think she can handle a discussion about <em> that </em> here in public -</p><p>“It compliments that dress nicely,” he finishes and Thea lets out a breath, dropping her gaze to the glass in front of her. </p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>There’s another pause when neither of them say anything, and Thea busies herself with fiddling with the little candle in the middle of their small table, picking at the wax as it pools beneath the flame. </p><p>“You’ll burn yourself,” O comments after a moment. </p><p>“I won’t.” She dances her fingers over the flame just to make a point and hears her husband tut from across the table. </p><p>“Honestly Thea, you’re like a child sometimes.”</p><p>She flicks her gaze up to his. “You’re one to talk.”</p><p>Oscar frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“Nothing,” she shrugs, reaching out to run her hand over the flame again. O catches it in his own before she can, dragging her attention back to him. </p><p>“Thea.”</p><p>She sighs, pulling her hand away sharply. She folds both of them in her lap and looks back at him evenly across the table. “Well, nobody can throw a temper tantrum quite like you.”</p><p>She watches the rage flicker across O’s face, and finds herself bizarrely amused by it. She probably shouldn’t rile him like this - but Thea feels relatively safe in such a public place, and the previous night is still raw enough to let her emotions slip through and form words. </p><p>He glances around before reaching for his wine glass and downing half of it. He picks up the bottle out of the little cooler, and tops it back up, his jaw visibly tight, the silence stretching out between them and Thea imagines he is carefully reigning himself in, determined not to prove her statement right just seconds after she had uttered it. </p><p>He sets the bottle back in the cooler and folds his hands on the table in front of him. </p><p>“Don’t test me, <em> my dear </em>.”</p><p>“Why?” She finds herself scoffing, lifting her chin as she looks back at him steadily. “Gonna throw me over your knee again?” </p><p>“If I have to,” he shoots back, and they lock eyes for a moment. Thea’s heart is pounding and she doesn’t know where this boldness has come from but she’s not about to back out of it now. “Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped last time.” He lifts his glass to his lips and takes another sip, and Thea does the same with her own. He quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe I should do it right here.”</p><p><em> Oh </em>. </p><p>The rush of heat that floods her entire body has absolutely no business inside her, and the way her stomach flips and throat goes dry makes Thea feel alarmed and ashamed all at once as she feels heat burst to life between her legs. She shifts in her chair, clearing her throat, cheeks flushing as she hastily drops her gaze from his. </p><p>“That’s not funny,” she mutters, reaching for her own glass and taking a hasty gulp. </p><p>“Your face is a little funny,” She can hear him grinning across from her and has to suppress the urge to kick him beneath the table. </p><p>She’s hurt and confused by what had happened between them the night before, and she had thought he was repentant… but now, here he was, teasing her like it had never happened. </p><p>Despite the arousal that had pooled inside her (still persisting, a treacherous heat in the very pit of her stomach), everything floods back and the way he is taunting her suddenly makes her chest go tight and to her alarm, her eyes fill with tears. </p><p>“Excuse me,” she says abruptly, standing from the table. </p><p>“Thea.” O catches her hand as she makes to bolt past him to the restrooms. She knows she can’t yank away from his grasp without making a scene so she shifts her gaze to his. The irritation she’d lit in him is totally gone from his eyes, as has the quiet threat-played-as-a-joke. He looks back at her honestly. “I’m sorry. I was just teasing you - it was in poor taste.”</p><p>Her eyes dart around the restaurant, grateful when nobody seems to be paying attention to them. </p><p>“Sit down,” he says softly; a request rather than a command. “Please?”</p><p>After a pause, Thea relents, and moves back round to drop into her chair. </p><p>Another silence settles between them. </p><p>“Do you like the wine?”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Thea shrugs. </p><p>“Okay?” He says, but his eyes are dancing with amusement when she glances up. “That’s a lot of money for a bottle of okay.”</p><p>She shrugs again. “I’ve never been very fond of wine. I don’t think. Maybe if had some sugar in it.”</p><p>“You want to add sugar to wine?”</p><p>“It’s bitter. Don’t you think sugar would make it taste better?”</p><p>Oscar looks back at her across the table for a moment, and Thea thinks he’s about to tell her she’s being ridiculous, when a waiter breezes past and he suddenly turns and snaps his fingers at him. </p><p>“Can I help you sir?”</p><p>“Could we get some sugar?”</p><p>The waiter blinks. “Sugar, sir?”</p><p>Thea muffles a giggle in her napkin as she pretends to dab at her mouth. </p><p>“Yes. That’s what I said, sugar.”</p><p>“Uhh… certainly sir, right away.”</p><p>“Oscar!” She hisses when the waiter hurries off, “I didn’t mean to actually try it right now!”</p><p>“Why not?” He smiles at her across the table. </p><p>“Because -”</p><p>“The waiter is back in a flash, with a little bowl of sugarcubes and a spoon. </p><p>“Thank you,” O says as the young man sets it down, glancing between them oddly before hesitantly moving away. Her husband motions to the bowl and Thea bites her lip against a grin. </p><p>“You’re serious.”</p><p>“Of course I am. You wanted sugar, I got it for you.”</p><p>Thea hesitates, looking at the little bowl and O before darting her eyes around to make sure nobody is watching them. Content the coast is clear, she hastily plucks a sugar cube from the bowl and drops it into her wine. She swills it round in the glass, but not a lot happens until O reaches over and sticks the little spoon in, stirring it neatly. </p><p>“O!” She gasps quietly, cupping a hand over her eyes in embarrassment as she tries not to laugh, certain people must be looking at them <em> now </em>. “You’ll have us thrown out!”</p><p>He just grins at her, tapping a drop of wine off the spoon on the side of her glass before dropping it down to the table and motioning to her drink. </p><p>Thea sighs and lifts the glass to her lips, taking a cautionary sip. Her eyes light up. </p><p>“Better?”</p><p>“Much,” she grins, and offers him her glass. O takes it from her, taking a sip himself before handing it back. </p><p>“Hm,” he comments. </p><p>“Good, isn’t it?”</p><p>“It’s not bad.”</p><p>Thea beams, then leans forward quick and plucks another cube from the bowl before plopping it into O’s glass. </p><p>He looks up at her dryly from across the table. </p><p>“What?” She grins. “You said you liked it. You’re welcome.”</p><p>“Thank you,” he sighs, picking up the spoon to stir his wine. </p><p>Things are much easier between them by the time their food arrives, and Thea’s mouth waters as the lamb shank she’d ordered is set down in front of her. O had opted for steak, and both meals look and smell delicious. She picks up her cutlery, about to tuck in when the sound of her name from behind her draws her attention. </p><p>“Thea Smith?”</p><p>She looks round in surprise, and sees Jim Chambers, the man she had met at the wedding yesterday standing by her table with a wide grin.</p><p>“Mr Chambers!” She smiles back.</p><p>“I thought that was you - what are the chances!” He says, then switches his gaze to O, “and…” he narrows his eyes and Oscar gives him no help at all, simply looks back evenly at him. “...Oliver?”</p><p>“Oscar,” he says cooly, and pauses before taking the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake. Thea watches the exchange warily.</p><p>“This is a lovely place - have you been here before?” Mr Chambers turns to Thea to say. She opens her mouth to answer but O beats her to it. </p><p>“Oh yes, we come here every week, don’t we love?”</p><p>Thea gives him an odd look. </p><p>“Really? I’m in here myself quite a bit, funny we haven’t bumped into each other before.”</p><p>“Hilarious,” O replies. </p><p>Thea clears her throat. “Are you here alone tonight?” She asks him politely. </p><p>“Oh yes, yes I am. Cooking can be such a bother every evening can’t it?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t know,” O jumps in. “I have a wife,” he says pointedly, and Thea resists the urge to roll her eyes at his childishness. </p><p>“Yes,” Mr Chambers forces a laugh. “Well,” he says, having obviously sensed the tension, “It was lovely to see you again Mrs Smith. And Mr Smith, of course.”</p><p>“Of course,” O smiles back. </p><p>“Have a good evening Mr Chambers,” Thea offers kindly before he turns and hurries away. She locks eyes with O across from her. </p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Nothing,” she says, dropping her gaze and making a start on her meal. </p><p>Seeing Jim Chambers has brought her mind back to the wedding the night before - specifically, the way O had reacted to the pleasant conversation he’d overhead between them. She didn’t know if it was jealousy or… what. “<em> What do you think you’re doing, telling strangers all of our business?” </em> O had demanded, and those words sit uneasily inside her. </p><p>Forcing her mind from the sharp memory of her husband’s hand round her throat, Thea thinks back to the conversation she’d had with Mr Chambers, unable to understand what about it had gotten him so riled up. All Mr Chambers had asked about was how long she had lived here, and where Oscar worked. The latter she hadn’t been able to remember and still couldn’t recall. </p><p>“Darling,” She begins. </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Where is it you work again?”</p><p>O sticks a forkful of steak in his mouth. “Hm?” He repeats. </p><p>“Your work,” she presses, and O swallows his food then begins to cough. “I can’t remember what the company’s called?”</p><p>He coughs some more, hitting himself in the chest and Thea’s eyebrows shoot up. “Are you alright?”</p><p>“Yes,” he nods through coughing, “Sorry - went down the wrong way,” he says, reaching for his drink and downing a mouthful before coughing again. </p><p>“Darling -” Thea begins, making to get to her feet, concerned. </p><p>“Don’t worry, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he reassures her, getting up and coughing some more, “I’ll be right back.”</p><p>She sits back down, watching as Oscar hurries off towards the restrooms. </p><p>—</p><p>“Jim Chambers.”</p><p>The man jumps a little as he exits the gents into the little corridor and the Master has to make an effort not to smile in amusement. </p><p>“Oh,” he says, “Mr Smith.”</p><p>“Yes. Might I have a word?”</p><p>Mr Chambers straightens his jacket, brushing his hands over himself. “Certainly,” he says, politeness carefully injected into a word he’d clearly rather not be uttering. “How can I help you?”</p><p>“Not here.”</p><p>The Master turns to stalk towards the fire exit by the kitchens. </p><p>“Pardon?”</p><p>“Not here, I said,” he repeats, holding open the door when he reaches it. He nods his head towards outside and Mr Chambers appears to hesitate, glancing back into the restaurant. The Master gives him a false smile. “It will only take a moment.”</p><p>Reluctantly, Mr Chambers moves down the corridor and out into the little darkened alleyway behind the restaurant. </p><p>“Now, what’s this about?” He says indignantly as the Master lets the door swing shut behind him. It closes with a thud, and the second thud is the sound of Mr Chambers back hitting the brick wall as the Master slams him up against it, scruff of his coat gathered in his hand. </p><p>“Hey! Listen - I was only being polite I know she’s your wife,” he immediately starts babbling, voice high. “There’s no need for all this!”</p><p>“Isn’t there?”</p><p>“No! Look just - let me go - can’t we discuss this like gentlemen? I haven’t done anything!”</p><p>“Oh but you want to though, don’t you,” the Master growls, pointing a finger right in his face. “I can see it in your eyes.”</p><p>“I - no! I’m not interested in married women, what would be the poi -ah!” His voice cuts off with an amusingly high-pitched squeak when the Master withdraws the steak knife he’d slipped from the table and presses it to Jim Chambers throat. He swallows visibly. “Listen,” he says - does this man ever stop talking? “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impressing, I’ll - I’ll never go near her again if that’s what you want -”</p><p>“That’s not what I want.”</p><p>“- What?”</p><p>“No,” he says, and presses the knife in a bit further, “This isn’t about Thea.”</p><p>Mr Chambers blinks, stammers a bit, “It’s not?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then… wh - what do you want? - I don’t have any money, I don’t carry cash with me but look if you just release me I’m sure we can work something out -”</p><p><em> Humans. </em>They were so predictable. </p><p>“I don’t want your money,” he cuts him off. </p><p>“Then what? - Please!” He squeaks when the Master presses the knife in under his chin, A single bead of blood pools from the tip. </p><p>“Where do you work?”</p><p>“I… what?”</p><p>“The company, what’s it called!?” He demands impatiently. </p><p>“Martin!” He yelps, “Martin and Son’s Accounting! Did Larry send you? Is this about the Carson’s deal?”</p><p>“What? No -”</p><p>“Because I’m sure if you just give me some more time I can -”</p><p>“What do you do there?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Your job title!” He demands, getting frustrated with this bumbling idiot.</p><p>“Analyst manager - f-financial analyst manager!”</p><p>“Right,” the Master says, and eases the pressure of the knife. “That wasn’t so hard was it.”</p><p>He feels Jim Chambers relax a bit as he loses his grip on him. “Why do you want to know?”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it.”</p><p>“Uh… okay. C-can you let me go now?”</p><p>The Master grins a him, which turns into an amused chuckle, which turns into a laugh. Mr Chambers hesitantly starts to laugh along with him and it only amuses the Master further until both of them are laughing there in the alleyway. </p><p>“No,” the Master laughs and Mr Chamber’s face falls, laughter tapering off. </p><p>“What do you mean no?”</p><p>“No,” he repeats, and watches with amusement the moment Jim Chambers realises he is about to draw his final breath. </p><p>--</p><p>The Master <em> hates </em> killing people with knives, it was so… messy. He longs for his TCE or even a pistol if he could get his hands on one, but he supposes the noise of that would have drawn too much attention. He washes his hands six times in the little lavatory until he’s content they’re clean, then he wraps the steak knife in toilet paper and flushes it down one of the loos. He pauses in the mirror, slicking back his hair, and noticing a spot of blood on his cheek which he hastily wipes off before making his way back to the table. </p><p>“Sorry,” he apologises to The Doctor when he sits back down. “Had to hunt down a waiter for some water.”</p><p>“Did you not find anybody?”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>The Doctor nods to his empty hands. </p><p>“Oh - I drank it in the lavatory. All better now.”</p><p>“That’s good,” she says. “I’m glad you’re alright.”</p><p>“What were you saying before?” He asks as he picks up his cutlery. </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“You were asking me something, before I had to leave.”</p><p>“Oh yes, I was,” The Doctor nods, going back to her food too. “I just couldn’t remember the name of the company you work for.”</p><p>“Martin and Son’s Accounting,” he answers smoothly. “In fact,” He leans in a little, “I don’t like to be prempt but I’m expecting a promotion this week.”</p><p>The Doctor’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? That’s wonderful!”</p><p>“Yes. To Financial analyst manager. Somebody’s leaving the company, but it’s all a bit hush at the moment.”</p><p>“A manager’s position,” The Doctor says, and leans back in her chair, smiling at him across the table. “That’s brilliant darling.”</p><p>“Well let’s keep our fingers crossed shall we?” He says to her, then glances around. “Excuse me,” he signals over a passing waiter. </p><p>“Yes sir?”</p><p>“I seem to be missing a steak knife, perhaps you forgot to set one out. Could you fetch me one?”</p><p>“Certainly sir, my apologies,” the young man says, and hurries off. </p><p>He smiles at the Doctor across the table, and she smiles back. </p><p>--</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just in case any of you had forgotten this is still the Master 😂</p><p>Hope you liked the chapter! Please let me know what you think if you have the time! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Dinner was lovely,” Thea says when O closes their front door behind them, both shrugging out of their coats. She takes her husband’s and moves over to the cupboard to hang both those and his hat up, and unwinds the silk scarf from round her neck to hang that too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she says to O as she closes the cupboard door, smiling a little to notice him kicking his shoes off by the door instead of traipsing upstairs in them like usual. She’s pleasantly buzzed from the wine and the nice evening, the previous night all but forgotten in that moment - and she hesitates only briefly before walking over to him and leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. O seems to be frozen against her for a moment - perhaps she has taken him by surprise? - Before she feels his hand go to her lower back and his lips press back against her own. She gives a small contented moan, looping her arms up around his neck, and parting her lips for him when his mouth presses more insistently against her own. Thea whimpers at the slide of his tongue over hers and her nails curl into the back of his neck, inhaling deeply through her nose as arousal settles inside her and hums pleasantly through her body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O,” she utters against his mouth, then gasps when he presses forward and sends her stumbling, her back hitting the wall by the stairs with a thud. “Darling,” she breathes as his hot mouth moves from her own to her neck, tongue laving over her skin just under her jaw, his hands roaming her form, skirts bunching up by her hips. His mouth moves downwards, tongue sliding over her pulse point, lips hot, teeth scraping just a little -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea goes rigid, hairs standing up on the back of her neck as a sudden flash of the night before when he had bitten down hard enough on her skin to bring tears to her eyes grips ahold of her, and O pulls back to look at her quizzically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face softens and Thea drops her gaze, a little embarrassed by her reaction. She hears O sigh through his nose as she swallows, fiddling with the collar of his shirt and trying to get her racing heart to calm, and when she looks back up at him his eyes are fixed on her neck. His gaze flickers up to hers and Thea inhales, watching with wide eyes the flicker of emotions across his face. She can’t read any of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gaze drops back down and O lifts his hand from her waist and gently, carefully, as if reaching out to a trapped animal, brings it to her neck, cupping it gently and letting his thumb glide over her skin. There’s a deep furrow in his brow and Thea’s chest is heaving as she holds still, watching him take in the damage he’d done the night before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long moment that feels like an age, Oscar glances up into Thea’s wide eyes, searching them quickly before he leans in, and Thea inhales sharply and holds her breath as his lips ghost so lightly over her neck, dropping a final gentle kiss to the darkened skin before he steps back. Thea’s eyelids flutter and she releases the breath she’d been holding, swaying forward with his weight gone against her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late,” he says, tugging his shirt straight and running a hand through his hair. He nods his head up the stairs. “You should get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea blinks several times, back leant against the wall, heart beating hard in her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re… - are you not coming to bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head tensely, suddenly very interested in a spot on the collar of her dress. “Not tired yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea swallows. “Neither am I,” she says bravely, looking up at him from under her lashes. O stares back at her for a few suspended seconds before he gives a sigh and runs a hand over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s late,” he repeats, and leans in to press a quick kiss to her forehead. “Get some sleep… I’ll see you in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then O is gone, disappeared off into the sitting room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea stays where she is leant against the wall in the hallway for a long minute, staring after her husband in confusion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some part of her is… relieved that he didn’t want to make love tonight - the way her body had flooded with fear when she felt the brush of teeth on her neck had brought everything rushing back, and though she knows he’d just been a little too drunk and wound up after the wedding and she equally so, winding him up further by fighting him the way she had, the fresh memory was still raw and painful in her mind. She’s glad she doesn’t have to contend with him pinning her beneath him tonight and yet… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>O had stirred arousal to life inside her, set her burning deep in her core and left her feeling empty when he’d walked away - and there’s something else. A little niggle of fear that what had happened between them and the way she’d reacted might have spooked him. She is glad he seems to realise he’d behaved unreasonably, but refusing to touch her at all was so starkly out of character for Oscar it fills her with anxiety. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of a bottle clinking against a glass can be heard from the sitting room, and pushing away from the wall, Thea gives herself a shake and turns to head upstairs. Things would probably go back to normal tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Thea wakes the next morning the other side of the bed is empty and cold, and she doesn’t know if her husband had occupied it throughout the night at all. There’s no sign of him after she’s gotten ready and gone downstairs, but his hat and coat are still hanging by the front door so she assumes he’s down in the shed where he seems to have been spending so much time lately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing down there?” She asks curiously, after the smell of bacon cooking had drawn him in from the garden, offering her a begrudging ‘good morning.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he answers immediately, and Thea turns from the stove to raise an eyebrow at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gives a huff, sinking into a seat at the table as he throws up a hand. “Just… fixing up an old radio. Nothing to interest you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea pauses briefly, thinking of the radio of his she’d dismantled and stashed down there - but O shows no hint of irritation and she concludes that perhaps he hadn’t realised it had been her who’d taken it apart in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It might,” Thea says, going back to prodding at the pan. “Love a radio.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says, “... I’ll bring it in when it’s done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea dishes out his breakfast, and then her own, and they speak no more of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might plant some tulips in the garden,” she says conversationally after she’s finished chattering about the good weather they are promised this week as she sips tea across from him. The flowers he’d brought her yesterday are settled between them in a little jar in the middle of the table, and Thea loves the bright colours - she thinks it might be nice to see them out of the kitchen window. O grunts a noncommittal sound of reply and she sighs, finishing the rest of her breakfast in silence across from her husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiosity gets the best of her just an hour after he’s left for work, and Thea heads down the garden path to the little shed at the end, pushing on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Locked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was odd. Thea didn’t even realise the shed </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> lock, and she certainly had no clue where the key for it was kept. She searches underneath all the plant pots surrounding it, then checks in the cupboard and drawers in the kitchen just in case, and when she still hasn’t found it and has had to conclude that O had taken it to work with him, curiosity is absolutely burning inside her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why would he need to lock the shed? All that was in there as far as Thea was aware was some old cans of paint, some rusted tools and gardening equipment - nothing of any value. And - more pressingly, why had he either taken the key to work with him or hidden it where Thea couldn’t find? It was almost like there was something in there he didn’t want her to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Resolved, Thea thunders upstairs and digs out a couple of hair pins from her dressing table then hurries back out to the little shed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She isn’t quite sure how she knows exactly how to pick a lock… she must have taught herself as a child probably - but it only takes a few minutes of jimmying the keyhole with one pin pressed up and the other digging around before the lock pops open with a click. Triumphant, she stands and eases open the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The shed is a mess of wires and tools and bits and bobs of metal and electrical components strewn around, and Thea can only blink for a moment. She steps inside, bending to pick up what looked like some sort of non-polarised capacitor and wondering what place it would have in the construction of a radio when she pauses. How does she even know that? Thea drops it down and picks up another piece of equipment - a little board with wires fused together connecting up to a battery…she sweeps a load of tools aside to find a small screen that looked like it had been taken from a mini television and rewired…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t a radio. She didn’t know </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> O was trying to build in here, but some instinct deep inside her screamed insistently that it was some sort of detection device. She doesn’t know how she knows it. She just </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What was he up to? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s papers strewn on the shelf along the wall, and Thea brushes aside the pens and tools scattered across them to peer down at what she recognises as O’s writing - scribbles and lists and equations surrounding a diagram. The work is rough and has been crossed out and re drawn and written several times - it’s a mess, practically illegible, and Thea sweeps her eyes over the paper, trying to make sense of what she’s seeing. There are weird circular patterns along the top of the page, and she finds herself staring at them for a long minute, heart inexplicably pounding, before she forces her eyes away, concluding them idle sketches, and her gaze settles on a set of equations scrawled in one of the corners. They are alongside a smaller diagram of what looks like some sort of internal component, designed to connect up and send readings to the screen - but that won’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span> because Oscar has assumed the value of x to be constant, whereas it needs to be swapped with a variable, making the whole thing shift and needing a different connection in order to fuse correctly with the reactor -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spooked, Thea drops the paper and finds herself backing out of the shed, hastily shutting the door again and turning to stumble back into the house. She falls down into a chair at the kitchen table, breathing hard through her nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How had she understood that? How… how had her brain just </span>
  <em>
    <span>known</span>
  </em>
  <span> all that - those equations had just run through her mind like she could </span>
  <em>
    <span>read them</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she didn’t even know what it was but she could just see how to build it… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where had that information come from? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And - more importantly, what </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> her husband building? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is so shaken that she helps herself to a glass of Oscar’s brandy, downing it in three gulps and wincing at the burn. She braces her hands on the edge of the side table when she’s set the glass back down with a clunk, concentrating on breathing steadily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There must be an explanation. She… she was just good with figures - always had been. She’d taken higher maths in school, hadn’t she? Some of it must have stuck - algebra, that’s all it was. Just because she could work those sums out didn’t mean she knew how to build - whatever it was her husband was fiddling with. She was being ridiculous. She was good with her hands and knew her way around simple electronics yes, but how would she know such a thing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably nothing anyway… but as Thea goes about her chores that day she cannot shake the feeling of unease at the locked shed and what lay inside. She supposed most women would be glad to know all their husband was hiding was some weird electronic project down the shed and not another lover, but for some reason, it fills Thea to the brim with unease, and she also cannot shake the image of those circular symbols she’d seen scrawled along the top of the paper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She cannot help but think Oscar was purposefully hiding something from her. Something important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is resolved to corner him about it as soon as he comes in, his anger at her snooping be damned, but all that goes out the window when O appears in the kitchen at dinner time with a smile and a kiss planted on her cheek, and steps back to hold out a little bag to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you something,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea blinks, heart still beating fast from where he’d startled her. “I didn’t hear you come in,” she says, but O just presses the bag into her hands and another kiss to her cheek before turning away to take off his hat and coat, plopping them down on the kitchen table. A bit bemused, Thea peeks inside the brown paper bag. Her eyebrows shoot up and she reaches in to pull out a little packet of seeds, with pictures of tulips on the front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You…” She roots around and finds more packets in the bag, along with a few other types of flowers and a small bag of toffees. “You got me tulip seeds,” she says, a little stunned. “How…  - when?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Swung by the garden centre at lunch,” O says smugly; he knows he’s surprised her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s… really thoughtful darling,” she smiles and ducks her head. “I didn’t think you were listening to me rambling about it this morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always listening to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes snap up and grow wide, and Oscar clears his throat and breaks the gaze, shoving a hand through his hair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he says, “You can plant them this week, or if you want help digging up some space for them I can go out there after tea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, startled further, “Um - thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs. “It’s nothing. Dinner nearly ready?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yes,” she says hastily, turning back to the stove, “Just about to dish up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea thinks about the device in the shed again halfway through doing the washing up after a pleasant dinner with her husband. She could mention it to him when he comes in from the garden. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Should </span>
  </em>
  <span>mention it to him, demand to know what on earth he’s building in their own shed and keeping locked up away from her… but the mood between them is calm and pleasant, and Oscar’s thoughtful gift had soothed her somewhat. She glances out the window into the back garden and sees him rolling his shirtsleeves up, surveying the flower patch, and Thea’s heart melts a little more. It was probably nothing anyway. Just… tinkerings - a way to keep himself busy. And she supposed the hours he spent down there did keep him out of her hair too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she’s tidied the kitchen, Thea wanders into the sitting room and sets about lighting a fire. It’s not that cold now, but she likes the cosines of a crackling fire in the evening and she thinks O will appreciate the comfort after a day at work and then an hour or two spent in the garden. By the time she’s got the fire going and has settled down with a book, Thea has resolved to forget about what she’d found in the shed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is reminded rather swiftly, when the back door closes with a bang and O storms into the room with dirt on his hands and cheek and fury in his gaze. She closes her book, sitting up straight. “Darling -?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been into the shed!?” He demands, and her stomach drops. Of course - she hadn’t locked the door again - or set right everything she’d handled… she’d been a little preoccupied with the confusion and suspicion she’d had swirling in her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - w-why?” She stammers stupidly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The door was locked - it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>locked </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thea, and it was picked open - not to mention all my things moved around - I’d wonder if we’d had thieves except nothings been taken!” He barks, and Thea shrinks back a little into the settee at the wild glint in his eye. “Well!?” He demands. Taking a deep breath and swallowing, Thea stands form her seat to face him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I did go in there. You never told me I couldn’t and I wanted to know why it was locked,” she replies indignantly, and folds her arms. “What are you building in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar scowls at her. “A radio. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>told you</span>
  </em>
  <span> -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not a radio,” she snaps back, “I saw the diagrams and I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You must be pretty stupid if you thought breaking into my shed and messing with my stuff was a good idea,” he growls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you making?” She presses.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar glares at her, rage flashing across his features before he whirls away. “None of your business,” he snaps shortly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes it is. I’m your wife -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he snarls, whirling back like the name is a mockery, stalking across the room to her and advancing until she steps backwards in startlement, back of her knees hitting the settee and sending her sitting down with a thud. “You’re my </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span> and your job is to shut up and do what I tell you and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go prying into my business!” He rages, leaning over her. The urge to kick him bubbles up inside her, and Thea’s leg twitches - but she refrains, swallowing hard and tilting her chin up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just wanted to know what you were building,” she replies coldly, voice as even as she can manage with Oscar looming imposingly over her like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glares down at her for a moment and she glares right back, before he stands straight and steps back. “It’s a radio,” he says again, blunt tone threatening an end to the conversation, and with that he whirls on his heel and stalks out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sulks for the rest of the evening - at least, that’s what Thea assumes he is doing; she doesn’t see him again before bed. She puts out the fire and heads upstairs fairly early, changing and climbing into a cold bed alone and also still feeling considerably sulky. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>that thing he’s building isn’t a radio - she doesn’t know how she just knows that it isn’t. The strong sense of intuition she feels towards it is still alarming to her, and Thea tries to force it from her mind as she lays in the dark, her head starting to hurt from the effort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t that late when she hears her husband’s footsteps on the stairs, and she’s a bit surprised; she half expected not to see him again until morning much like the night before. Thea is tense when he eases open the door and shuts it behind himself, undressing quietly before padding over to the bed and slipping beneath the duvet with her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea.” His soft voice fills the space between them after a moment. She doesn’t reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighs. “I know you’re awake. You’re breathing fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea huffs, shuffling a bit further away from him. “What is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I locked the shed because the electronic equipment in there is unfinished and there’s live wires everywhere. I didn’t want you to accidentally shock yourself and get hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A full five seconds pass as his words sink in, before Thea rolls onto her other side to face him. She frowns, feeling hurt as she looks into his eyes in the darkness of the room and </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> he’s lying to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you building?” She asks again quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar’s brow furrows. “A radio.” He gives a chuckle suddenly, and reaches out to brush back a strand of her hair. “It’s a new invention - a radio and an alarm clock - and a camera.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyebrows shoot upwards. “A </span>
  <em>
    <span>camera?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O nods. “It’s just a hobby. Probably never be able to get it to work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea stares at him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Liar</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she thinks. “I could help you?” She suggests, to see how he’d react. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughs. “Don’t be silly love. It’s far too complex for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The frowns. “It’s not. I understood some of those equations you’ve written down you know. I could -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shh,” he hushes her soothingly, brushing back her hair from her neck, flicking it over her shoulder. He trails the tips of his fingers from her collarbone to her ear, and Thea represses a shiver to open her mouth to interrogate him further, when his hand slides up and fingers press to her temple and she -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was she going to say again? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea?” She realises her husband is saying softly, and blinks, feeling a little like she’s emerging from underwater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… - sorry - what were we talking about again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The radio I’m building.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh - yes. The radio,” she nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>O smiles. “You’re tired,” he comments. “Get some sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea watches him withdraw his hand and flop onto his back. She blinks. “Don’t you want to…” She lets herself trail off as O glances over at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cheeks flushing when he gives no indication of catching her meaning, she shakes her head. “Never mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight,” he says, and rolls over onto his other side away from her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Night,” Thea echos, a little dazedly as she watches her husband settle down for the night, feeling inexplicably cold and empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm so sorry this chapter took so long, I had to take a little break from this fic, but I hope you're all still reading and this chapter was okay! Please drop me a comment to let me know if you have the time! ❤️❤️</p><p>Edit to say, I made a new twitter just for my fic, I’m posting a load of leaks and snippets on there and little fics that are too short for ao3 etc so come follow me! @spoilersweetfic</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Master is quiet as he watches the Doctor sleep next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt inexplicably guilty, messing with her mind like that - he’d done worse, much worse - planting this whole scenario into her head to start with for example; tweaking her thoughts to convince her all she had found in the shed was a disassembled radio was nothing in comparison. And this one </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> for her own good - if she got too suspicious and ending up finding out about her true identity too early she could be in real danger. But things feel… different now. There’s been a shift inside him he cannot deny, and he has decided, privately, that he doesn’t wish to hurt her anymore. Not while she’s like this, so pathetic he cannot stand it - out of pity, more than anything… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, closing his eyes and rolling away to sit up with his back facing her, swinging his legs out of bed and putting his head in his hands in the dark. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn't pity. And the Master knew there was no point in continuing to fool himself such. Yes she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>pitiful</span>
  </em>
  <span> like this - weak and fragile and reliant on him and his affections… but it wasn’t pity that drove his change of resolve. It was something else entirely, something the Master had been denying to himself for a very long time, yet had always resided deep inside him, twined to the strands of his DNA as surely as the essence of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> was to him and every timelord. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He loved the Doctor. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d been in love with the idiot since they were children, and how he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hated </span>
  </em>
  <span>himself for it - even more so now he knew what she was. Now he knew that she was and always had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> than him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And what infuriated him further still, was that he loved the Doctor and only the Doctor (Theta), but the Doctor loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>so many</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and even more loved her. He was fairly certain most people she met fell half in love with her and he hated that, hated even more so that she seemed oblivious to it, like she had no concept of her magnetism.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d looked at him like he’d told her the most bizarre thing in the world when he’d made that observation about her beauty on the way to the wedding, and it had made him want to shove her to the concrete ground in irritation. Of course - it wasn’t her appearance that made her so enthralling, for the Master’s feelings for her never wavered with each regeneration, and she (he) has the same aura about her always. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was just particularly infuriating that she was incredibly physically appealing this time around too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing about it was fair. She was… everything, the essence of their entire race - he wouldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>exist</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he was if not for her, and if that wasn’t infuriating enough, he was cursed with an infernal, eternal soft spot for her. He loved her when they were children, and she was his best friend in the whole word, he loved her when they were adolescents, discovering what a deeper sort of love could mean, and he loved her when they were adults, in their second, third, thirteenth regenerations, a constant stone in his hearts that he’d tried to deny for most of his lives. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d have been quite happy continuing to deny it for all his remaining ones too - it wasn’t like it was going to make any difference - like it could ever mean anything between them. The Doctor hated him as surely as he hated her for all that she is and all she made him feel, and there was certainly no way she’d want him anywhere near her now after this anyway. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would be furious - </span>
  <em>
    <span>beyond</span>
  </em>
  <span> furious. It almost sends a tingle of excitement down his spine to envision the way her green eyes would blaze with anger, the rage she would inflict upon him. It was part of the reason he was doing this to start with - gleeful at the prospect of how enraged she would be when she came back to herself. He always had loved to make the Doctor lose it; pushing her limits, testing her temper a part-time hobby of his. He’d yearned for her outrage at the memory of him making her into his simpering wife, but now… now the prospect just makes him feel sick to his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was likely not to talk to him for a century after this, and he supposes that’s for the best. For her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt funny to acknowledge that something selfless is what he wants; it makes bile rise in the back of his throat, but he swallows it forcibly down. He’s done her wrong - many times over, and while he doesn’t regret all of his actions, he is starting to regret this one. This whole damned situation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not like he can change it now - to do so would put her in danger. But there’s one thing he can do. It won’t exactly make the way he’d already used her better, but the Master vows not to touch her like this again. She’s his wife only in charade, and he has no right to her body the way he’s been claiming. He has used her, and hurt her, and it had taken doing so to realise it’s the opposite of everything he wanted. The Master had created Thea Smith, and then purposefully torn her apart, only to find horror at the emptiness that resided inside him in doing so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t hurt her again - not like this. The Doctor may be no worse than he, but Thea in her current state of mind is innocent, and it seems the Master’s mind had picked now of all times to grow a conscience. She didn’t deserve to be hurt. He would keep his head down, live this life with her here keeping an eye on her until it was time for her to return to herself. Whether he managed to get his detector to work or if her ship simply decided to come back… if not, he supposed he would just give it a few more months then wake her up and they could work out how to get out of here together. She’d have a way. She always seemed to have a way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Until then… the Master knew he had to make this life more convincing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heads down to Martin and Son’s accounting after breakfast the next morning to plant the seeds for the second part of his plan, introducing himself to the front desk and getting himself a meeting with the manager whom he schmoozes, telling him he’s looking for an analyst’s position. Unfortunately they are all full up at the moment, but Mr Hughes promises to keep him in mind should a position open up. Which the Master already knows it will, due to a Mr Jim Chamber’s sudden and unexpected leaving of the company. If he uses a little mind control to plant himself in Mr Hughes’ head as without doubt the best candidate for the job without the need to even advertise the position well - it was for a good cause. He needed a legitimate job. For the Doctor, so she wouldn’t get suspicious. For Thea. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Get the job. Go to work every day. Work on the Tardis detection device. Look after the Doctor. Don’t touch her again. Don’t hurt her. That was all. He could do this. He’d run cons that lasted longer and involved more mundanity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His resolve to leave her alone however, is tested rigorously just that night after dinner, when the Doctor wanders into the sitting room after clearing up and settles herself quite comfortably on the settee next to the Master - </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> next to him, hips and shoulders touching, and her giving a soft sigh as she curls her legs up so they’re resting against his thighs and opens her book. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master clears his throat, shifting against her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must you?” He grinds out. “There’s a whole end free.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn’t respond, just rests her head on his shoulder as she finds her page and settles down to read. He gives a sigh, going back to his own book - or at least pretending to. The Master had always been quite fond of reading, but the books from his planet - especially in this dull time period were equally as dull, and he sat by the fireplace with a book of an evening more to keep up his role here than of any interest - there was little else to do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With the text in front of him failing to capture his attention, the Master can feel himself aware of every inch of the Doctor’s body where it touched his own. Her thighs were warm against his, her head a steady weight on his shoulder and he could smell the faint scent of rosemary and lavender - presumably from the soap she used to wash her hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She proceeds to test him further still when after an hour or so has passed, she sets down her book beside her with a sigh, and turns her head to start to nuzzle into his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” The Master murmurs. Instead of an answer he gets a smile pressed into his neck, followed by lips, the Doctor turning and getting up more onto the sofa next to him to start to drop slow kisses just under his jaw.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shifts, swallowing hard as heat rushes through his body. “Thea,” he warns lowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes threaten to fall closed as he feels her mouth open over his pulse point, tongue sliding over his skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he repeats, voice a low growl now, and getting himself another hum in response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes darling?” She breathes lowly into his ear, a small hand sliding over his abdomen and the Master sucks in a gasp, grabbing for her wrist just before she can reach the waistband of his trousers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks surprised as she moves back to look at him, large green eyes with pupils blown wide blinking at him in the low light of the room, and he swallows, trying to get his nerve endings to calm down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is… something wrong?” She asks him softly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he forces out, “Nothings wrong.” He lifts her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the backs of her fingers. “Just… a little tired, that’s all. And a headache. Do you think you could make me a tea, love?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, shifting away from him, stepping up of the sofa. “Of course. Be back in a moment.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master lets out a shaky exhale as she disappears off to the kitchen, glaring down at his lap. This was going to be a lot harder than he’d imagined. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master gets a telephone call the very next morning, just after breakfast.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Murdered</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you say?” He says, aghast into the telephone, careful to keep his voice low enough so that the Doctor does not hear him over the sound of frying down the hall in the kitchen. “How awful! Do they know who did it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not a clue, but I think they’re still investigating,” says Mr Hughes down the line. “Just round the back of that restaurant on Cooks Street, you know the one with the fancy gold lettering at the front?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know the one,” the Master nods, “why, my wife and I were there for dinner just the other evening.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t say,” he replies. “Yes awful business, awful. But anyway - life goes on, and it seems in rather poor taste for a job offer but if you’re still looking for that position it’s yours Mr Smith.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master smiles wide when he kisses the Doctor on the cheek goodbye that morning, and asks her to wish him luck on that promotion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is delighted when he returns home and informs her he got it that evening, grinning so wide and throwing her arms around him he can’t resist picking her up and spinning her round before he sets her back on her feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you’d get it, darling,” she tells him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, because you’re brilliant of course,” she says breezily as she steps out of his embrace and moves to set the table. “Sit down, I’ll dig out a bottle of wine to go with dinner to celebrate.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They take their glasses into the sitting room with them after, and he lets the Doctor coax him into playing a game of checkers with her by the fire. One game turns into two, which turns into three, four, five when they continue to draw each time. By the end of the fifth game they are forced to declare it a tie, and he helps her put out the fire and tidy everything away as she chatters happily about the origins of the rules of the game (how did she even know these things?) before they head upstairs to bed together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What the Master doesn’t expect, is to turn from closing the bedroom door to find himself with an armful of Doctor, her lips against his neck and hips pressing into his.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is utterly lost in her touch for more than a few moments, sinking into her when she captures his lips in a kiss, and letting her walk them backwards across the room to tumble down onto the bed. So lost is he, that he doesn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about his earlier silent promise to himself and her, until she is rolling over him, small frantic hands reaching for the belt of his trousers. Realisation hits him like a tidal wave.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea.” He stops her, hands covering hers and voice hoarse. He swallows hard as she glances up at him with questioning eyes. “I don’t think we should.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brow furrows. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just… I’m not - you…” she gazes at him so innocently his chest aches with it. “I don’t think you really want this,” he says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling you’re my husband,” she chuckles. “Of course I want this.” She reaches for him again but he pulls out of her grasp, rolling away and turning to sit up with his back to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O?” He hears her voice after a pause, and feels the shift of the bed as she sits up behind him. “What’s wrong? Did I… do something?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sounds so desperately fragile it makes his hearts twinge and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He sighs, shoulders sagging. “No. Of course not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then…” He hears her swallow hard and continue in a quiet voice, “Why won’t you touch me lately? I… I want you,” she says shyly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The “You don’t” slips from his lips before he can prevent it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes I do,” she insists, and he can hear the frown in her voice, “You don’t know what I want -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I know better than you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he wants to tell her - but he can’t. “Just trust me, Thea,” he says quietly instead. “You’re not - you don’t know what you want, not right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a pause that stretches out between them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t understand,” she says quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course you don’t. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He sighs, and gives her half the truth in an equally quiet voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just… don’t want to hurt you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, and there’s another pause before she gets up from the bed. The Master closes his eyes, not wishing to see her walking out of the room, but he opens them again in surprise when instead he feels her hands on his knees and sees her kneel down on the floor in front of him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The night of the wedding,” she says bravely, eyes locked onto his. “We both had a bit to drink -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea,” he cuts her off, unwilling to dredge up the raw memory between them, “you don’t have to -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No it’s… it’s okay. I know you’re sorry, O. I forgive you,” she says, and he sighs, shaking his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me show you,” she insists, shuffling forward on her knees, reaching for his trousers. His eyes widen and he grabs her hands. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Thea -!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” Thea says, eyes big and dark as they gaze up into his, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span> how he would have burned a dozen galaxies to see the Doctor kneeling and looking up at him this way before, it’s just a cruel trick of the universe that the Master is only now realising that it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Doctor he ever wanted like this, not this brainwashed, flimsy human version of her who he’d programmed like a robot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows hard, shaking his head and pulling her hands away from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>To his horror, those big eyes of hers abruptly fill with tears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns her head, getting hastily to her feet and turning away, brushing at her cheeks. It’s too late; he’s already seen her tears, and he sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face. She heads over to her nightstand, presumably to avoid facing him, reaching up to start pulling pins from her hair with hands that visibly shake a little. He can see her in the mirror and doesn’t miss the tear that rolls down her cheek as she looks down. It makes both his ancient hearts ache. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was worse  - hurting her now or a little more later when she remembered who she was?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She brushes at her cheek again, and the Master sighs, shoulders sagging.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come here,” he says, holding out a hand, hearts surging when she glances round then crosses the room and slips her own into it without hesitation. He tugs her to sit down next to him on the bed. “I only didn’t want to hurt you again, love,” he tells her gently, and looks down at their joined hands. “I regret sorely what happened that night - the way I lost control with you…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she insists, sniffing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you are,” he sighs, “Because you’re strong. It still… shouldn’t have happened. I’m… I’m worried I may lose control like that again,” he laments. It’s only a half lie. It’s not the main reason he’d resolved not to touch her of course, but the Doctor does set a fire blazing inside him that sends him into a frenzy he isn’t always fully in control of when they are together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She tilts her head at him, empathy shining in her green eyes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>how can she be so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>kind?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” she says, squeezing his hand. “It was my fault that night too, I shouldn’t have -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he cuts off her apology quickly before she can fully utter it. “It was my fault. Not yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks down, gazing at their hands like he had before. She runs her thumb over the back of his knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And I’m -“ he swallows when the words threaten to cut like razors in the back of his throat. Takes a breath. “I’m sorry,” he finally manages, meaning it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Green eyes flick up to his, and she nods and offers him a small smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Apology accepted.” Her eyes drop down to his mouth. “I still…” she licks her lips as if she is nervous, “I still want you, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master sighs. To refuse her again would surely only hurt her further in this moment than he already has. Decision made, he squeezes her hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then let me make it up to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she breathes as he slips to the floor and shifts to kneel between her legs, nudging them gently apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she repeats, swallowing audibly when he draws her skirt up, reaching down to help him tug it up out of the way. She gasps when he leans in and presses a kiss between her legs, lips directly over her clit through the thin material of her underwear, and he mouths at her like that, tongue lapping up and down, the thin satin soaking through from both sides until she is mewling, hips shifting restlessly beneath his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master scrapes his teeth lightly over her clit, delighting in the hiss she gives and the way she twitches against his mouth. He does it again and feels her fingers curl into his hair, one hand round the back of his head, the other gripping to her skirts with white knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Off,” he hears her murmur, voice breathless and a little desperate, “take them off…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unable to deny such a request, the Master curls his fingers round her underwear and draws them down as she lifts her hips, tugging them off her legs and tossing them somewhere over his shoulder. When he leans back in, lifting one of her legs over his shoulder, the Doctor flops down onto her back, thighs falling open and a sigh tumbling from her lips as he laps his tongue up the length of her bare, dripping sex. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she’s panting, “O, darling…” And it is a stark reminder of who she currently thinks she and he are. He is not O, and what the Master would give to hear the Doctor murmuring his true name like that. He’d demanded the name from her lips before - here and as the Doctor, when he’d had her on her knees in a gallery full of people in London, but it hadn’t been the same. Thea breathes his name full of contentment and </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks is real - the Doctor always said the word Master like it was a mockery. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chasing those thoughts from his head, the Master concentrates on what he is doing, judging the pressure of his tongue against her clit by the soft noises she is making and the rate of her breathing. Her hand is tangled in his hair again, the other clutching to his where he grips her hips, the pressure of her fingers increasing and decreasing as she pants and her body rolls against his. He opens his mouth over her and laps at her, listening to her keen, then gripping tighter to her hips, he pushes his tongue inside her, swirling it around the inside of her entrance and delighting in her series of gasps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heel is digging into his shoulder blade and her fingers are so tight in his hair it almost brings tears to his eyes, but nothing could make him lift his mouth from her in that moment. He laps back up to her clit and releases her hip with one hand to slip it round underneath his chin, and he sucks hard on the little swollen nub as he slides two fingers inside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar!” She gasps out, the name like a lash of ice against the back of his neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, sucking harder at her, caressing her on the inside as he tries to chase the echo of the name from his mind, sliding the pads of his fingers over hot silken walls inside her in a come-hither movement that has her hips gyrating on the edge of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she pants, “I’m gonna - I’m gonna - oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>O</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh god - oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>god</span>
  </em>
  <span>…” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She curls up off the bed as she comes, a vice like grip in his hair and on his hand, her thighs quivering and contracting around his head in tandem to her inner walls contracting around his fingers. He works at her, frantically drawing out her pleasure, smug in the knowledge that no human could ever pleasure her this well as he lets his respiratory bypass kick in so he needn’t move his mouth from her for one second. She collapses back down onto her back, her sex still twitching against his mouth as he slows the pace of the flicks of his tongue over her clit, swirls his fingers steadily inside and listens to her moan and whimper softly. The grip on his hair releases (thankfully), and she switches to petting it instead, trembling fingers carding through it gently as she gives shuddering gasps and starts to relax beneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the Master is not done yet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives a shriek of surprise when he eases his fingers out only to plunge a third back inside, lips sealing around her clit again and sucking hard as he tongues rapidly at the over sensitised little swollen bundle of nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O!” She gasps, grabbing a fistul of his hair again, other hand leaving his to fling out and grip the bedsheets tightly as he works her furiously with tongue and fingers. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She breathes, and he presses a highly amused smile into her clit; it is the first time he’s heard her swear as Thea Smith and the Master has to admit he </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He groans his appreciation, letting her feel the vibrations against herself, and then she is coming again, gasping and shaking, and when he glances up from between her legs he sees her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, eyes wide as she gazes unseeingly up at the ceiling. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s sweating profusely by the time she comes down this time, chest heaving over the top of that dress, still bunched up around her waist, and the Master lifts his mouth from her, letting her leg drop down, and kneels up to unbutton the front of it hastily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor is dazed and pliant as he moves her about to undress her, and when he has her fully naked he looks up at her from between her legs and thinks she’s the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Even as a human. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me hear you this time,” he murmurs, turning his head to drop a kiss to the inside of her thigh. He delights in the way her eyes widen. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This time?” She echos. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master just grins, leaning in to cover her with his mouth once more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’s made her come twice more - </span>
  <em>
    <span>loudly</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks smugly, certain the neighbours both sides of them (and possibly halfway down the street) would have heard her cries of pleasure, he clambers to his feet, rolling her limp form up fully onto the bed and drawing the covers over her as she lays panting hard.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches him quietly with hooded dark eyes and a small smile on her parted lips as he undresses quickly, and rolls into him the second he slips beneath the covers with her, a leg over his and her small hand sliding down over his stomach. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He catches it in his own, drawing it out from beneath the covers and lifting it to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tonight was for you, love,” he tells her softly, and she stares at him, eyes wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For me?” She echoes and he nods. “You don’t want to -?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” he insists, and threads a hand into her hair to lean in and kiss her, deep and slow when she continues to look at him with anxious eyes, and by the time he pulls back her eyelids are fluttering, and she smiles, soothed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can make it up to me another night,” he quips, and she seems to relax fully, smiling as she drops her head to his shoulder and nuzzles into his neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s only after her breathing has slowed and started to even out, small form hot like a little furnace against him, does he realise that he’d just initiated a kiss between them out of nothing but sheer affection for what he thinks is the first time since they’d been here like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master lets out a shaky exhale of breath, trailing his fingers down the length of the slim arm slung over his torso and trying to deny that both his hearts quicken when she sleepily nuzzles in closer. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea Smith… Thea Smith might be a pale imitation of the powerful being who could rule the universe if she chose to, but Thea Smith was still a wonder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor made him crazy - one way or another. Irrational with madness, anger - even if it was love it burned through him like fury. He felt like he was on fire whenever he was around her, adrenaline pumping through his veins, coursing through his body like molten lava, but Thea…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea made him feel calm. With all the flames of rage and franticness doused, he could feel the love he felt for her running clear and steady, like the flow of an undisturbed river. He wonders if he and the Doctor could ever be like this, and knows the answer as soon as he’d thought the question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was too much history, too much pain between them for things to ever be this simple. The Doctor would never forgive him for the things he’d done - this included - nor was he sorry for any of them (this excluded -). And he still hated her, a little bit. A lot. Hated her in a way he couldn’t hate Thea, for Thea didn’t remember or know what she’d done, what she was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor made him crazy. But the Master thinks for the first time, that perhaps Thea Smith could make him happy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>To the Master’s surprise, he finds he actually doesn’t mind the job at the accounting company. It’s a small building, with only a handful of other men working there and a woman on the front desk, and they are mostly quiet types, preferring to spend the majority of the day sequestered away in their own individual offices working through figures, which minimises the time the Master has to spend around idiot humans and suits him just fine. The actual job, although a little dull does occupy at least one section of his mind sufficiently in order to make the day pass by relatively quickly. The only trying part of it was being polite to the idiotic clients. Still - that didn’t occupy too much of his day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rather well actually,” he answers the Doctor at the dinner table that thursday evening when she asks him how his new position at work is going, and is surprised to find he means it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good,” she smiles back at him, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. I’m so proud of you, you know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses in eating, blinking at her. “Proud?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I always knew how clever you are - I’m glad it’s finally been recognised.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stares back at her, unable to explain why his chest suddenly feels strangely tight and warm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why are you looking at me like that?” She laughs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives himself a shake and hastily goes back to his meal. “I’m not. Uh... - thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes him by surprise again the following evening - although this time it is not on the topic of his work, no - it’s something quite different altogether, and something he had never, ever expected to hear leaving the Doctor’s lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?” He replies, glancing up to see her pushing round potatoes on her plate, a deep furrow of thought dug into her brow. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why haven’t we ever talked about having children?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master chokes on his mouthful of potato. Properly, actually chokes, enough for Thea to leap up out of her chair and round the table to him, hitting him on the back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he gasps when he’s managed to swallow it down, reaching out for his glass and taking a long gulp of water. “Stop fussing I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he snaps, batting her off, a little embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moves back round the table and plops back down into her chair, eyes down on her dinner plate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well…” she says quietly. “I would have made sure we weren’t eating if I knew you were gonna have </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> reaction.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master clears his throat. “You just… took me by surprise.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stares at him. “Did I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sighs, tugging at the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling overheated and uncomfortable, knowing he didn’t have answers for where this conversation was headed. “What’s to talk about?” He tries to put a hasty end to the topic. “If it happens, it happens. I’m sure you’d be a wonderful mother.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears her inhale sharply and when he looks up from his potatoes she’s looking at him like he’d just said something amazing.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you really think so?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Course,” he shrugs, wondering why she was taking the compliment so to heart. “Could you pass the salt?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thinking (</span>
  <em>
    <span>hoping) </span>
  </em>
  <span>that would be the last of it, he is surprised further when she clears her throat after a short pause and persists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you think maybe... we should get help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The forkful of potato and stew pauses on the way to his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Help?” He echos, bemused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, help?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know…” he watches her fidget. “See someone?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stares, lost. “Uh… for…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gives a little huff and continues. “I’m just saying,” she says, “with, you know, how often we… </span>
  <em>
    <span>you know.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Her eyes lift anxiously to his and he notices a flush on her cheeks. “Surely it should have happened by now. Shouldn’t we see a doctor?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master almost chokes for the second time that meal, hastily swallowing down his food and reaching for his water, downing half the glass before he can do so. He plonks it back on the table, gasping a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” He says quickly. “What’s err… what’s brought all this on anyway?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I was just thinking.” She bites her lip a bit, poking at her food with her fork. “I just got chatting to some of the ladies at the wedding, and they were asking if I had any children and… and I suppose I’d never really thought about it before? Which… is a little strange, now I come to think of it, I mean we are married, and we have been for… - ages, and it seems kind of odd that we’ve never even spoken about it, or that it hasn’t just happened, I mean it’s not like we technically haven’t been </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>, so I just thought perhaps we should go and see a doctor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stares at her, trying to take in everything she’d just rambled very quickly about as she avoids his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want to see a doctor,” he finally manages, and she hesitates before giving a quick nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because… you’re not - because you haven’t -” god, why can’t he say it?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because I’ve never gotten pregnant,” she fills in for him quietly, “yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you…” His voice goes a bit hoarse and he hastily clears his throat, still trying to process the fact that he was having to have this absurd conversation with </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who didn’t know she was the Doctor, and instead thought she was his human wife wondering why they didn’t have any children. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes a breath. “Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to…” Still can’t say it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get pregnant?” She glances up as he nods, and bites her lip. She shrugs. “That’s the point of being married, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowns and her eyes widen a bit. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> you want…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Children.” He fills in for her, and she nods. He swallows, considering how to reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course, the Master knew why she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> gotten pregnant, aside front he fact that they’d only been ‘married’ here for less than a month as opposed to the several years she was imagining, the Doctors biology was currently completely human - his was not. It wouldn’t be possible for the two of them to conceive, not like this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell her that of course, nor could he tell her that even if he could technically knock her up there’s no way he </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> - not with this being an entirely fake life they were both leaving in a few months at the most. A few weeks ago - a week, even, he would have said no bluntly, and delighted in any upset consequently caused. But now… now things are different. And the Master can’t bear to see hurt shine in hazel eyes across the table from him. Instead, he chooses his words carefully, cautious not to commit to one answer or another until he’s sussed out her mind. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like you said, I suppose we’ve never really spoken of it. Maybe…” The vulnerability that flickers across her face makes his hearts ache. “Maybe we should both take some time to think about, properly. Then… we can discuss where to go from there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, and he tilts his head at her, trying to read her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she nods quickly, looking back down at her plate. A frown flickers briefly but she nods again firmly. “Yes that’s probably sensible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master lets out a breath he’s been holding, silently congratulating himself on what he feels was the successful navigation of a minefield. He clears his throat, hastily striving to change the subject. “The weather’s meant to be nice this weekend. We could plant those flowers I got for you, if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks up with a small smile. “Yes,” she says, “I’d like that. I was going to do it earlier this week but - well you know it’s rained since tuesday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s settled then,” he gives her a breezy smile, and both finish the rest of their dinner in relative silence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor had found out that it was too early in the year to plant tulips; they needed to be planted in the autumn and would flower the following spring. She’d looked so disappointed as she told him earlier that week, that the Master has used his lunch break the following day to head down to the local garden centre again and buy up three pots of tulip plants already in full flower. The way her face had lit up when he’d walked in the door with them had made the awful struggle of carrying them home worth every minute. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not that one there!” She says from where she kneels in the dirt next to him on saturday morning, reaching out to stop him as he goes to settle a yellow tulip into one of the holes they’d dug near the back of their new flower patch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m doing a gradient - so pink at the back, red, orange, and yellow at the front!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rolling his eyes good naturedly, he lets her carefully take the little plant from him and pass him a pink one instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think we’ve got enough for that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes we have. We’ll just do a small section here and I’ll plant the bulbs all along for next year. Can we go to the garden centre and get some more? I think some purples would look beautiful too. Do you suppose you can get blue?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can go and look if you want,” he replies easily, squashing down the urge to chuckle fondly. She really was ridiculous. Imagine t</span>
  <em>
    <span>he Doctor </span>
  </em>
  <span>so excited about planting flowers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Although… somehow, he thinks that perhaps she </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be as excited about planting flowers as Thea - especially this version of her, with her rainbow striped shirt and bright yellow braces. She seemed like the type to be tickled by pretty things, and the Doctor always had loved nature and the beauties the world offered, right from when they were children and she’d make him go bird watching with her after classes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We could go after lunch!” She enthuses, “do you think they’ll be open on a Saturday?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Probably.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ohh - and we could take a detour through the park too! It’s such beautiful weather today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Whatever you like,” the Master drawls easily, digging another hole. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s silent a moment before she leans in and he’s surprised to feel the press of her warm lips to his cheek. He turns to glance at her, eyebrows raised in a ‘what?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs, leaning in to kiss him again, this time letting her lips linger on his cheek, a small hand coming up to cup the opposite side of his face and gently turn his head to her so she can capture his lips with hers this time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hums softly against his mouth, thumb stroking over his cheek, and when they part after a moment she moves her mouth to his ear, breathing a soft “thank you darling,” into it that sends shivers down his spine, then pressing her lips to his neck just underneath it. The Master closes his eyes briefly, feeling heat burst to life inside him. He wonders if the Doctor would have always had this intense an effect on him if they’d let each other get this casually close, or whether it was just because he knew Thea’s body so intimately at the moment her proximity felt so potent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop that,” he utters when she presses another kiss to his face, just by his ear, then another under his jaw. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” She smiles playfully into his skin, but sits back on her heels when he pushes at her lightly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he shoots her a warning glare, going back to his digging, “you’ll find yourself on your back in this flower patch if you don’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe that’s where I want to be,” she flirts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master’s hand pauses on the trowel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns to look at her to see her sitting next to him, smiling, bottom lip caught cheekily between her teeth, dirt smudged on her face and her yellow dress and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rassilon</span>
  </em>
  <span>, nothing in the universe could have stopped him from pouncing on her, knocking her down just like he’d said he would onto her back in the dirt as she gives a squeal of surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar!” She gasps, giggling as he presses firey kisses along her neck. “The neighbours will see!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let them,” he growls into her skin, settling his hips against hers and rocking into her, rubbing himself against her. He presses a knee between hers and she gasps again, hands flying to grip fistfuls of his waistcoat on each side as she tilts her hips up into the pressure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nnghh - O,” she breathes, tipping her head back in the dirt, gasping quietly as he ruts against her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The trowel drops to the ground next to them so he can thread a hand through her hair, smearing dirt everywhere, leaning in to press his lips to her ear and whisper things that make her gasp, tugging at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need you inside me,” she murmurs quietly, voice hoarse and breathless as her hips roll up into his. Her face is flushed from his words, lips plump from the press of his own. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pauses, stomach twisting with excitement. “Here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right here,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she breathes hotly, wriggling her hands between them to tug at his trousers, gathering up her own skirts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about the neighbors?” He teases, shifting to help her. He doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span> any of the houses are overlooking them where they’re right down on the ground here up against the fence in the corner - but he doesn’t particularly care even if they are. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let them see.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Neither did the Doctor, apparently, he realises as she repeats his own words in a voice that had he been standing, would have dropped him to his knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Positively giddy that she was really letting him do this here, the thrill sending heat shooting through his body and setting his hearts pounding, he frees himself from his trousers and drags her satin knickers aside, lining himself up and making them both gasp when he slides against her. Her doesn’t think she’d appreciated him touching her with dirt covered fingers, but she feels wet enough to take him already, and he settles between her legs, nudging at her entrance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks a little startled, and it makes something twinge between the Master’s hearts when he realises that’s because this is likely the first time he’s asked her such. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she nods eagerly, right knee up by his ribs as she tilts her hips eagerly into him. She feels perfect when he slides inside, slick and warm and tight, and she gives a beautiful soft sigh as he starts thrusting steadily into her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks a picture, spread out against a half-dug flower bed with tulips up by her hair and dirt on her skin. The dress she is wearing was already smudged from their morning’s work - she’d claimed it was an old one she didn’t mind ruining, and it’s a good thing too because he knows now that he’s got her on her back here it’s likely absolutely destroyed. She’d tied her short hair up with a red and white rag to keep it off her face but it’s half out now, blonde strands fanned about her, curling at the ends, her cheeks and chest flushed pink and lips parted as she gazes up at him. They’d landed on a pink tulip flower when he’d pushed her down, and it peeks out from under her shoulder, it’s companions scattered around them, carefully drawn from their pots and laid out ready to plant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master doesn’t think he will ever forget this image. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A paper bag filled with flower bulbs and another small pot of tulips tucked carefully under his arm, the Master strolls with the Doctor down by the riverbank in the park. She had pretended to be annoyed about the squashed plants when they had sat up and pulled their clothes back together in the garden, but he could tell by the flush on her cheeks and the smile she couldn’t stop tugging at the corner of her lips that she wasn’t truly irritated. He’d bought her another pot to replace them anyway, and she’d been delighted to find purple ones this time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A gasp from next to him makes him pause, and the hand tucked through his arm pulls them to a stop. “Look, the river’s so shallow there!” She points to where there’s a group of children paddling just by a little bridge, laughing and splashing each other. She turns to him with bright eyes. “Can we go in!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He laughs, thinking she’s joking. “No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face falls and he stops fully to turn to face her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can’t be serious Thea,” he chuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why - because you’re an adult, love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“People will stare.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t care. You didn’t care what people thought earlier when you were making love to me in the flower patch in our garden.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gives a surprised bark of laughter, shocked to hear her speaking so plainly of it. “That’s different,” he says, shaking his head with amusement. He turns to continue strolling along the bank.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” She insists, hurrying along beside him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Because</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You can’t go paddling in rivers like a child - what will people say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master really </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> care what people said - only that he had resolved to try and fit in in these times, and he knew any attention draw to Thea as being different or out of place was bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she whines, and he’s surprised at her persistence. “Just for a little bit, please darling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master gives a great sigh, coming to a stop again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On second thoughts - did it really matter if she made a scene? It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>highly</span>
  </em>
  <span> unlikely there was anybody suspicious of them around here, and even if there was, he doubts paddling in a river would be enough to alert them to the fact they he and she were both actually aliens from another time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fine,” he sighs, “Just for a little bit! And I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going in with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her face breaks into a grin and he lets her tug him down to sit on the grassy bank with her, reaching down to hastily slip off her shoes and one by one, roll down her stockings. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>People were already staring, families sitting near by and couples strolling the other side, and the Master resists the urge to laugh, stretching his legs out and crossing them in front of him as he watches her hurry down and tiptoe out into the low river with her skirts gathered in her hands. Her face is bright with delight and he sits there watching her, wondering how on earth he was so attracted to a literal immortal child. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Beautiful day!” Says a voice to his right, and the Master tilts his head up to see a man in a shirt and waistcoat with a football tucked under one arm and a newspaper in the other come to a stop standing next to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns. “It’s too hot,” he replies, looking back to the river. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, quite,” chuckles his new companion. “We’re lucky to have this sort of weather so early in the year aren’t we?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm,” he replies, and there’s a pause as both men look out at the river. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s my Benny,” the man says after a pause, pointing out at an unfortunate looking red-haired child with large glasses and thin white legs like little sticks. “He loves coming down here to play.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” replies the Master, wondering why he’d been singled out for conversation and how to get out of it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Which one’s yours?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not missing a beat he lifts a hand and points. “That one there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The little girl in red?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no. The woman next to her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a pause. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Right.” A forced chuckle. “Well then - I’ll er… be seeing you around.” The red-haired child’s father tips his hat at the Master before hastening along to find a spot to sit, far away from him. He smiles, greatly amused. Just like that, apparently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The children paddling near by the Doctor soon wander over to her, and left in peace again, he watches as she speaks to them, laughing at their jokes and letting a little girl take her hand and tug her out a bit deeper into the water until it comes to just over her knees. One of the boys reaches down and splashes her, and she gasps, pretending to be greatly offended before cupping her hand in the water and playfully splashing back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master doesn’t realise he’s smiling until she glances over at him and grins brightly, and he blinks hastily, giving himself a shake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt funny, watching her like this, seeing how good she was with the children as they all throw sticks into the water and three of the boys race up onto the bridge to see which ones come past first. He can’t help but think back on the conversation they’d had the other night, when she’d asked him in a quiet voice why he and she didn’t have any children of their own. He’d made the observation as a throw away comment to shut her up, but he realises now that she really </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a wonderful mother. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Of course she was brilliant with children. He doesn’t think he’d ever seen the Doctor interacting with them but he imagines it comes from her and is not just Thea. She seems like the type to be good with them. She had plenty of practice with those human companions of her after all.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Catching his eyes and clearly thinking he’s smiling at her again instead of amusement at the private thought, the Doctor grins and waves at him from the water. The little girl next to her tugs on her skirts and she leans down so she can say something to her. He sees her nod and point to him and raises his eyebrows in question when the small girl lifts a shy hand and waves too. The Doctor waves again, looking at him pointedly and the Master sighs, giving a roll of his eyes as he lifts his own hand and waves back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Content, they both turn away and go back to their fun, leaving the Master to wonder why the sight lodged something heavy and full inside his chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was insane, but… he could almost see it. Him and her, here like this, raising a child together… He could picture the Sunday walks to the park, watching as the Doctor ran off to play with a little one, face bright and skirts floating out behind her. Could imagine a smaller chair at the kitchen table, the Doctor’s soft smile and gentle coos as she fed the baby over breakfast, while the Master sat opposite with the morning paper, watching them contentedly. He could see her bouncing a tiny infant, tired but still beautiful, loose strands of hair curling about her face. He could imagine what she’d look like pregnant, belly swollen with his child, his arm wrapped protectively round her as they slumbered together, hand resting on her rounded stomach...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Realising with a start just how deep into that alarming fantasy his brain was going, he gives himself a jolt, forcing his eyes away from the scene in front of him and looking instead up to the sky as he takes a deep breath. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> was he thinking!? He and </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> like that - it was laughable. And besides - that was Thea. Everything he was imagining was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just like it was Thea who had broached the subject of children in a soft voice over dinner. There was no way in hell the Doctor would want any of that. Not that any of it was what he wanted either - the whole idea was ridiculous. This messed up society with its insane gender roles was getting to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was Eliza,” the Doctor tells him happily as she plops down on the ground next to him a short while later. “She said you were very handsome.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did she now?” He replies. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep. Told her I agreed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stretches out her bare legs in the sun, glistening from the water, and on an impulse, the Master reaches over and throws her skirts down over them. She turns her head to raise an eyebrow at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” He says, “People were staring.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She grins, eyes bright, and shuffles in a little closer to him. “Don’t worry darling,” she says, tilting her face up to the sun. “Only you can touch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master is very glad that her eyes are not on him in that moment, because should they have been, she would have seen the extremely embarrassing flush that bloomed over his cheeks. Him! </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Master</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was ridiculous! Fantasising about making babies with the woman next to him one moment, and blushing at her tame innuendos the next. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was she </span>
  <em>
    <span>doing </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him? </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Third chapter this week aren't you lucky 😂 I really hope you liked it, just to say quickly I know sometimes I'm slow replying to comments but I will always get round to it eventually, I just get excited when I finish a chapter I want to post it straight up 😂 But I really do appreciate each and every one sooo much!! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Watering can in hand, Thea smiles as she sprinkles water over the flowers and bulbs she and O had planted at the weekend. At first, her smile is owed to the fond memory of him being so thoughtful and buying her the flowers, but then, as she looks down at the flower patch she is granted with a particularly steamy memory of the day they had planted them, and the smile turns to a smirk as she bites down on her lip and her face flushes pleasantly. </p><p>She’d had dirt in her hair and she doesn’t expect she’ll ever get the stains out the old yellow dress she’d been wearing, but Thea cannot find it within herself to give a damn. It was funny… she knew she and her husband had surely always made love fairly regularly, but it was only very recently that Thea remembers ever enjoying it quite so much. She doesn’t know why that is. Perhaps she’d been blocking that part of herself off, holding back from letting her body enjoy the sensations. Up until that day when she’d felt herself quake and shatter apart collapsed over her kitchen counter with her skirts up she doesn’t particularly recall enjoying it at all. Before then, sex was just… hazy memories of her husband grunting on top of her with no strong feelings attached either way. There are a couple of more vivid memories from just before the kitchen counter incident when Thea remembers biting down on the inside of her cheek and wondering why it was hurting so much, but she expects she’d just been tense. Things had been difficult between her and O then, and it wasn’t like she and her husband hadn’t been making love for years. </p><p>Shaking her head a little to clear the less pleasant thoughts, Thea focuses on the memory from the other day, recalling how he had gasped in her ear, and slipped a hand down between them when he was finished to ensure she enjoyed it just as much. She felt a great sense of relief attached to their more recent encounters too. For a few days back there, Thea had been worried O wouldn’t want to touch her again at all. There was a time when she wouldn’t have cared - would probably have been glad, even, but things had shifted between them, Oscar had begun to make her feel pleasures she didn’t know her body was capable of, and besides that… Anxiety had begun to build about the way she’d reacted to him the night of the wedding. O was her husband, and she should never have refused him. Thea was frightened she’d made him feel so awful he didn’t want to touch her again. </p><p>Anyway - that was thankfully all behind them now, and things between them had never been better. Perhaps it really had been a good thing - and not just because the sex was wonderful (although that too), but Oscar seemed… calmer. Easier - more relaxed and, dare she say it, happy. Her husband had always had a quick temper, but she hadn’t seen it rise once in the past week, and she dares to hope that this shift between them had soothed it. Perhaps good sex had always been the answer - it had just taken Thea a long time to discover it. </p><p><em> Very </em>good sex, she thinks as she gazes unseeingly down at the tulips, lost in memories of that saturday morning…</p><p>“Mrs Smith!?”</p><p>Jumping a bit, Thea whirls round, spilling water from the can all over her shoes. </p><p>“Whoops!” Says the source of the voice, her middle-aged neighbour whose head was popped up over the garden fence. “Careful with that - you nearly watered those flowers half to death!”</p><p>“Oh,” Thea gives an embarrassed chuckle, realising that yes she <em> had </em> rather flooded the poor things. “Uhh just… lost in thought. Thanks Mrs…” She trails off, unable to recall her name. </p><p>“Russell, dear.”</p><p>“Of course - sorry, Mrs Russell.” She nods. </p><p>“You looked like you were miles away!”</p><p>Thea gives her a polite smile, hoping her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. </p><p>“Beautiful flowers,” the older woman comments, and Thea’s smile turns genuine. </p><p>“Thank you! Just planted them this weekend, hope I haven’t killed them off,” she says, setting down the offending watering can. </p><p>“Oh, all this sun they’ll be fine,” Mrs Russell replies. “Hope the foxes don’t come and dig them up though - there’s been one hanging around lately.”</p><p>“Has there?”</p><p>“Oh yes I’ve heard it at night - you know what an awful sound they make? Sounds like a woman screaming.”</p><p>Thea nearly chokes. Instead she forces a cough, nodding when Mrs Russell asks if she’s alright.</p><p>“Sorry - the pollen, you know.”</p><p>“Oh quite - my little grandson Johnny’s got awful allergies. He was over just this weekend, his poor little eyes and nose were bright red!”</p><p>“How awful,” Thea says. </p><p>“Actually he was playing saturday morning and came in and said he heard odd noises coming from your garden - could have been that fox sniffing about then. You don’t leave any cat food out, do you?”</p><p>“Um,” Thea is certain the intensity with which her face is burning <em> must </em>be obvious. “N - no, we don’t have a cat,” she laughs nervously. </p><p>“Oh good, because that can attract them. Do you know that Mrs Lawrence down the road at number eighteen? She only <em> feeds </em> the wretched things!”</p><p>“Cats?”</p><p>“Foxes!”</p><p>“Oh.”</p><p>“Bloody nuisance the lot of them - you hear stories about them attacking small children…”</p><p>Thea gets stuck talking to Mrs Russell for the next quarter hour. She doesn’t mind the conversation - she always loves a good chat, it’s just that she’s positively <em> squirming </em> inside after Mrs Russell unknowingly alluding to her and O’s recent, er, <em> activities </em>, and Thea is desperate to escape so she can be embarrassed in peace. She manages to excuse herself eventually by claiming she has a cake in the oven, and once she’s got herself shut safely inside the kitchen with her back to the door, she puts a hand over her mouth and lets the mortification wash over her. </p><p>She’s fairly certain her neighbour was oblivious and not hinting at Thea and Oscar’s recent er… <em> activities </em> - but to know they’d been heard was embarrassing all the same. She supposes she shouldn’t be surprised - she hadn’t exactly been holding back lately, and O wasn’t much better. </p><p>Still, there is a smirk on Thea’s lips when she pushes herself away from the door as she remembers just <em> why </em> they’d been so loud. She can’t wait to tell O later - he’d be terribly amused, and Thea reaslies for the first time in a long while, she has been looking forward to her husband coming home after work every day this week. Things are good, and Thea is happy. </p><p>To take her mind of the morning’s embarrassment, she decides to have a tidy and clean out of the cupboard under the stairs. She can’t remember the last time she did so. It’s full of old bits of clutter, and more than a few spiders, and she pulls out the coats hanging there one by one, tossing them to the back of the sofa to sort out afterwards. </p><p>Thea pauses as her hands close around a thick woollen coat of a rich purple, and frowning at the garment when she realises she doesn’t recognise it, she pulls it out, holding it up. </p><p>It’s too big to be one of hers she’s forgotten about - and the cuts not right for a woman but… <em> O? </em> The deep shade of purple didn’t seem very… him. In fact, Thea didn’t think she’d ever seen a men’s garment in such a colour. Wondering why it was she hadn’t seen it before, she roots curiously through the pockets to see what he’d left forgotten inside.</p><p>A hanky, a small box of matches, a little packet of humbug sweets, a pocket knife… she wrinkles her nose in distaste at the last one, shoving it all back inside and going for the inside pocket. Her hands close around something smooth and cold, and Thea pulls it out to find herself staring curiously at a gleaming golden pocketwatch. </p><p>She turns it over in her hands, running her thumb over the smooth surface. There’s engravings etched into it, and Thea feels her breath catch in her throat as she traces beautiful circular patterns. It’s funny… the symbols also seem strangely familiar…</p><p>Of course! She’d seen similar sketches on the diagrams she’d found in the shed for O’s radio project. She’d forgotten about that - how had she forgotten that? She’d meant to ask him about them and it had totally gone out of her head. What did the patterns mean - and why does Thea feel strangely like she should know? Perhaps what’s inside the watch will tell her -</p><p>A knock on the front door startles her from her musings before she can open it, and she hastily stashes it on the sideboard to ask O about later as she hurries over to answer it. </p><p>Mrs Peters stands smiling on the other side, and Thea ushers her in, excusing the mess. </p><p>“Just having a little clear out.”</p><p>“Oh not to worry, not to worry,” Mrs Peters replied. “I only wondered if you’d finished with that cake tin - I was planning on baking this afternoon…”</p><p>“Of course!” Thea replies. “Come in and sit down - cup of tea?”</p><p>Mrs Peters ends up staying for most of the afternoon, the two of them sitting round Thea’s kitchen table, reminiscing on the beautiful wedding and chattering about this and that. Thea finds herself invited to a small book club that takes place on monday evenings run by one of the ladies she’d met at the wedding party, and ensures Mrs Peters that she’d ask her husband if she could go as soon as he got home. She hopes he says yes - Thea realises that she desperately craves some social interaction with people other than him, and wonders again at her having let herself become so isolated. She’d always loved people - how was it she hadn’t made friends with any of her neighbours sooner? They’d lived here for ages, after all. </p><p>By the time her new friend leaves, Thea realises she should start on dinner if she’s to have it ready in time for when O gets home, and hastily shoves all the coats and clutter back into the cupboard with a mental note to postpone the job for tomorrow. </p><p>Thea is setting plates of steaming food down on the table just as Oscar walks through the door that evening, and she smiles brightly at him, hurrying over to plant a kiss on his cheek and help him out of his coat. </p><p>“Good day?” She asks. </p><p>“Fine,” he answers, handing her his hat. “You?”</p><p>“Yes, good  - dinners ready. Oh - you’ll never believe what Mrs Russell next door said…”</p><p>--</p><p>It isn’t until a little later that evening, after they finish dinner and Thea has cleared away that O asks her if she’d pour him a brandy when she wanders into the sitting room, and she nods and heads over to where he keeps the glass and bottles on the sideboard by the door, and catches sight of the pocketwatch sitting on top. </p><p>“Oh,” she remembers, scooping it up. “I was going to ask you darling,” she says, turning to face him with it in her hands. </p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“I found this in one of your old coats.”</p><p>O glances up from his book and away again, then appears to do a double take after he’s clapped eyes on what’s in her hands. His face pales like he’s seen a ghost, and he surges to his feet abruptly.</p><p>“Give that to me.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Give it to me <em> now,” </em>he growls, striding to her and lunging for it. On sheer instinct, she dances away, holding it out of his reach.</p><p>“Thea!” He barks.</p><p>Startled by his sudden anger, she holds her ground, curiosity <em> burning </em> now. “Where did it come from?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter where it came from, it’s <em> mine,” </em>he growls. </p><p>“But I just want to know is all -”</p><p>“Give me the damn watch!” Shocked at the way he screams the words at her, irritation flashes inside her, and she spins and scuttles away when he grabs for it again. His fingers catch at her skirts and he yanks her, dragging her backwards, sending her tripping as he grabs her arm and tries to wrestle her for the watch. </p><p>“Why are you - behaving like this -” She fights him, growing more and more stunned and suspicious at the franticness in his eyes. “I just wanna know what it -”</p><p>“I’m not playing <em> games </em> Thea!” He barks as they tousle, her elbow catching him in the face and his hand bruising around her wrist. They stagger sideways and she crashes into the edge of the sideboard, yelping. “Give - <em> me -” </em></p><p>“Get off!” She snaps, shoving him forcefully as he tries to grab for it again, his hand catching round the chain of the watch, both of them scrambling and the watch falling from her fumbling hands and clattering off the sideboard and to the floor -</p><p>She feels O freeze, every muscle in his body tense as they both stare down at the watch on the ground, and then he’s dropping to his knees and grabbing for it, frantically turning it over in his hands, ensuring the still closed pocket watch was on one piece.</p><p>“<em> You could have broken it!” </em> He screams, rounding on her, and Thea stumbles backwards as he lunges for her in fury. “You <em> stupid -“ </em>she lets out a squeak of alarm as he slams her into the wall by her neck, hand tight round right her throat - just like at the wedding -</p><p>“O please!” She gasps, tears springing to her eyes “I didn’t mean -“</p><p>His own eyes flying wide, he releases her as suddenly as he had seized her, staggering backwards, visibly shaking with - anger or panic - she doesn’t know. And she’s too afraid of him to want to find out.</p><p>“Get out of my sight,” he says quietly, as if it’s a strain to get the words out, and Thea doesn’t waste a second before she flees upstairs and away from him. </p><p>She’s trembling as violently as O had been when she’s shut herself in the bedroom and slid down the door to sit on the floor with her back against it, chest heaving. </p><p><em> Here was your reminder, </em>she thinks bitterly to herself. Her husband is volatile and unpredictable, and Thea had been stupid to think that just because of a nice week he had changed. Tears spring to her eyes again, and she pulls her knees up to her chest, wraps her arms around them and buries her face as she lets them come. </p><p>--</p><p>When the bedroom door eases open an hour or so later, Thea is standing by the window, still dressed, her back to the door and arms folded around herself as she looks out at the night sky. She hears a sigh and the door closes softly before O clears his throat.</p><p>“Can we talk?”</p><p>She swallows. “I didn’t mean to drop it,” she says quietly. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>Soft footsteps cross the room until he is standing beside her. </p><p>“The watch was my father’s.”</p><p>Thea frowns before she turns to face him. “Why didn’t you just <em> tell me </em> that?”</p><p>He frowns back. “Why didn’t <em> you </em> just give it to me when I -“ clearly realising his voice is rising again he cuts off and inhales deeply through his nose. “You’re right. I could have handled it better. But you shouldn’t have been going through my belongings in the first place -”</p><p>“You belongings!? I was just cleaning out the cupboard - it was a <em> coat! </em>”</p><p>“My coat!” He snaps back, “And what were you doing rooting through the pockets!?”</p><p>“I don’t know - I thought there might be some cash in there you’d - forgotten or something, I -” She throws her hands up. “I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong!”</p><p>He stares at her, breathing hard, nostrils flaring in the blue light of the moon. There’s a bruise blossoming across his left eye, and Thea remembers her elbow catching him in the face. There’s a little voice inside her head, still angry at the way his temper had flared that whispers <em> good </em>. </p><p>“Don’t go through my things again.” He finally says, and whirls away from her to stomp across the room, grabbing out a set of pyjamas from the cupboard and starting to get changed with jerky motions. </p><p>Thea tracks his movements warily for a moment out of the corner of her eye, before moving over to her dressing table and plopping down onto the seat to start pulling pins from her hair. </p><p>When it’s down free and she’s started to carefully wipe the small amount of makeup she wears from her face, she glances at O in the mirror, sitting on the bed and buttoning up a pyjama top. </p><p>“You said it was your fathers?”</p><p>She sees his hands pause briefly before he continues. </p><p>“Yes. He gave it to me before he passed.”</p><p><em> Of course. </em>His parents were both dead. She knew that. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she says. “It’s not…?” </p><p>“It’s not damaged, no,” he hastily says. “Thankfully.”</p><p>“Good,” she nods. “It’s a beautiful watch.”</p><p>He grunts in response. </p><p>“Those symbols on the front…” She thinks she sees him tense in the mirror, but then he’s getting to his feet and hastily pulling the covers back from the bed. “What do they mean?”</p><p>“Nothing,” He replies. </p><p>“Really? Because they seem kind of… I don’t know - weirdly familiar almost? It’s like -”</p><p>“It’s nothing, Thea,” he snaps. “Just decoration. I don’t want to talk any more about it.”</p><p>“...Okay.”</p><p>He gets into bed and lays on his side, and Thea sighs and stands from her dresser to cross the room and silently change into her nightdress. O doesn’t look round as she strips off, or when she slips into bed beside him. He doesn’t bid her goodnight, nor she, him, and they boy lay there in the dark, neither sleeping, time ticking by and Thea’s head a muddle of thoughts and confusion. </p><p>Finally, he gives a great sigh and rolls over onto his back. </p><p>“I shouldn't have reacted that way,” He admits, and turns his head to face her. “Forgive me?”</p><p>Thea nods, and he reaches out a hand to her face. On instinct, she flinches away at the sudden movement and O quickly withdraws his hand, looking at her with hurt eyes. </p><p>“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know.”</p><p>Thea stares at him, and something like bitter mirth flickers across her face. “Isn’t that what you want?” </p><p>Something unidentifiable flickers through his gaze, and he shakes his head. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>She thinks she believes him, there’s honesty in his face, but Thea also knows that it definitely <em> is </em> what he wants sometimes - or has been. He’s practically said as much, threatening her to behave herself and do as he says on more than one occasion. She doesn’t think he’s ever actually hit her… he’d threatened that time, when he’d pulled her over his knee, and been rough with her on more than one occasion… but Thea thinks he’d be capable of it, should she push him far enough. Unfortunately its never been in her nature to back down, and Thea wonders if some day that that might be her undoing. </p><p>O rolls away from her and sits up, swinging his legs out of bed, and Thea takes in the lines of tension across his back. </p><p>After a long minute, he speaks quietly. “I lose my temper sometimes.”</p><p>Thea resists the urge to scoff. “I know <em> that </em>,” she replies, a little bitterly. </p><p>“I don’t always mean to,” O continues, and Thea shifts to sit up too, drawing her knees up to her chest as she looks at his back in the dark. </p><p>“I’m not… always <em> in control </em>… of the rage inside of me. In fact, I spent a long time letting it control me.”</p><p>Brow furrowing, she tilts her head, listening to him carefully. “Go on,” she says softly.</p><p>He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “There’s something wrong inside of me - inside my head. I’ve know it for a long time. Ever since I was a child. It was like… an insistent drumming on the inside of my skull.”</p><p>She shuffles forward on her knees so she is sitting beside and can watch him quietly in profile. </p><p>“A drumming?”</p><p>Her husband looks down at his hands, fiddling in his lap. There is a deep frown on his face. “The noise is gone now, but the rage it caused is still there. Sometimes when it rises I can feel the noise, like a pounding - like I have to <em> do something </em> before it…” He breaks off, clearly unwilling to say any more, and Thea’s whole heart aches for the pain etched into his brow. She sits quietly by his side for a minute, letting his words sink in before she speaks. </p><p>“We could… try and get help for you?” She says in a small voice. “There must be doctors who deal with this kind of thing, we could -“</p><p>“No,” he cuts her off quickly. “They’d lock me up.”</p><p>Thea swallows hard, staring at him in the dark, realising he was probably right. </p><p>Cautiously, she reaches out a hand and places it gently on his face, tilting it to the side to look at her. </p><p>“Then I’ll help you.”</p><p>He scoffs and tries to turn away. “You can’t.”</p><p>She keeps his head angled to her, looking him in the eye.</p><p>“I can try.”</p><p>“How?” He frowns, “You don’t even -” He cuts off and Thea tilts her head curiously. </p><p>“I don’t even what?”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” he mutters, shrugging her off. “You can’t help me.”</p><p>“How do you know if you don’t let me try?”</p><p>“Because what makes you think you can?” He scoffs again, “You always think you can help everyone don’t you? - You, and only you, with all the answers, better than anyone else -”</p><p>Thea can see him getting riled up again and tries to gently hush him with that hand on his cheek. “Shh, darling -” She says, but he pushes her roughly off. </p><p>“You’re not better than me,” he spits, “You always think you’re better than me, that you’re <em> so </em> fucking riteous and perfect and you always know every -”</p><p>She cuts him off with her lips pressed to his. It’s a wild stab in the dark, but amazingly, it seems to work, freezing him against her, and making him pliant when she pushes at him, shoving him to his back and clambering on top of him. She can feel the frantic drum of his heart beneath her hands braced on his chest, the slight tremble to his body that warned of his temper still tiptoeing dangerously close to boiling point. But if she can just pull his focus, get his attention on something else and away from the rage building inside him then <em> maybe </em> she can calm him before it bubbles over. </p><p>“What are you doing?” He says as she pulls away to shuffle on top of him, tugging her nightdress up around her hips and sliding her legs either side of him.</p><p>“Look at me,” she insists, settling herself directly over him, the thin material of his pyjama bottoms rough against her heated centre as she grinds her hips down onto him. He gives a choked gasp, hands flying up to grip her hips.</p><p>“Thea you don’t have to -“</p><p>“Just look,” she insists, moving her hips in a steady rhythm, “and <em> feel.” </em> He begins to harden beneath her quickly, and she sighs at the sensation, grinding down against him, eyelids fluttering in pleasure. “That’s it,” she breathes, and reaches down between them. She rises up on her knees and he lifts his hips so she can tug his bottoms down, and when she settles back over him her wet core slides over the silken hot length of him. They both let out a groan. She reaches between them again to take him in her hand, lining him up with her entrance and shifting her hips, letting the tip of him press into her. </p><p>Breathing hard, Thea leans down over her husband on her elbows, nudging her nose against his. “Just feel,” she whispers against his lips, pressing back with her hips and taking him fully inside. </p><p>She moves over him, grinding her hips until they are both panting, then sitting up on top of him with her hands braced on his chest for more leverage as she increases her pace. Neither of them speak as she works them both higher, just the sounds of their gasps and soft moans leaving their lips as his dark eyes bore into her own. She can tell when he’s getting close to finishing, feel his fingers tightening on her hips beneath the rucked up material of her nightdress, see the rate of the puffs of air leaving his mouth increase, and she shifts a shaking hand between her legs, acting on instinct, fingers flying to where she aches and slipping over herself, frantic and out of time, making her thighs start to shake. </p><p>Thea feels her inner walls contract around O’s length inside her, and throws her head back, gasping out loud at the beautiful ache it causes and the pleasure that ricochets through her as she hits her climax. His hands tighten on her hips and grip hard, pulling her down against him as he plants his feet on the mattress and thrusts up, finally spilling into her boneless body with a hoarse cry of pleasure. </p><p>She collapses forward, slumping on top of him, her forehead pressed into his shoulder as they both gasp, her body trembling lightly on top of him from the force of her climax as she catches her breath. She feels his hand stroke up over the length of her back and gives a content sigh, nuzzling into his neck and letting her lips move wordlessly over his skin. </p><p>Finally he shifts beneath her, and Thea pushes herself up to let him slip out of her, rolling to the side to lay draped over him. She lifts a hand, stroking fingertips over the dark, sweat-damped skin of his forehead, thumb lightly tracing the bruise beneath his eye. </p><p>“Do you feel better?”</p><p>He hesitates before nodding, and Thea gives a small smile. “See,” she says gently. “I can help you.”</p><p>O shifts beneath her. </p><p>“So what, you’re going to fuck me better every time I feel angry?” He scoffs.</p><p>“No,” she replies, “that would be impractical. But I <em> am </em>going to be here for you.”</p><p>“Here for me?” He echos, and she nods. </p><p>“Always.”</p><p>Oscar stares at her like he doesn’t believe her words. “Aren’t you scared of me?” He whispers, an edge of vulnerability in his voice.</p><p>“Sometimes,” she admits. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and help you.”</p><p>He stares some more. “<em> Why?” </em></p><p>“Why because - I’m your wife,” she says like it’s simple. It is to her. O frowns at that, and she reaches up to smooth out the lines of his forehead with her fingertips, murmuring softly. “For better or worse.”</p><p>His frown deepens, and he makes like he’s going to pull out of her arms and turn away, but Thea holds tight to him, shifting her mouth to his ear. </p><p>“I’m your wife, Oscar,” she repeats, “and I love you,” she tells him softly, and when she draws back and looks down into his eyes they are shining with tears she does not understand.</p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yall thought she was gonna open that watch didn't you 😂 I'm not done with them yet ;)</p><p>I've mentioned this before, but I've recently made a new twitter specifically for my fic, I post lots of sneak previews of this and other fics on there as well as some shorter things that don't make it to ao3 so come and follow me if you're interested! @spoilersweetfic :)</p><p>Really hope you all liked the chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Sunday! So... obviously you know this fic is already rated E but just to warn you this chapter is particularly explicit and you could honestly skip the entire thing if you're here for the plot rather than the smut because that is all this one is 😅 If you're reading on... enjoy 4.7k words of filth 😂</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Doctor is barefoot at the cooker when the Master wanders in at breakfast time, humming softly to herself as she pours beaten eggs into a saucepan.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning darling,” she greets him without turning round, “tea’s on the side, the eggs will be done in a minute.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night before still weighs heavy on his mind, and the Master wonders, not for the first time, at her patience for him. He isn’t certain the Doctor would have been so kind as Thea, not after how he’d reacted to what was an innocent question from her point of view, and then grabbed her once again in a way he already knew frightened this version of her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hadn’t intended to share all of that with her afterwards… the Master still isn’t really certain why he had. It was that guilt again - he felt like he owed her an explanation. He couldn’t very well tell of her course that he’d lost it in fear and panic when she’d held in her hands the very item capable of shattering this whole world. So he’d given her the next best thing; as much honesty as he could about his behaviour. He’d been a little stunned to hear the words leaving his own lips in all honesty - his tendency to lose control wasn't something he often admitted, even to himself, instead usually preferring to lean in to the violent swings of his moods and fool himself into believing he had a handle on them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As way of distracting himself from the reminder of showing her such vulnerability, the Master doesn’t reply to her, nor does he go to collect his tea, instead he walks up behind her to peer over her shoulder at the eggs she’s scrambling in the pan, hands going to her hips. Her hair is loose except for two clips behind her ears keeping it out of her face, and he buries his nose in it, inhaling deeply and letting his world narrow and focus on </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
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<p>
  <span>“You smell good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I smell like cooking,” she quips with a soft smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you smell like you.” He nuzzles at her, pressing himself up against her back and the Doctor forgets to stir for a moment then curses softly and hastily resumes, scraping at the egg stuck to the bottom of the pan. He smiles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re distracting me,” she complains, but she doesn’t seem too annoyed about it if the way she leans into him is anything to go by. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You distract me all the time,” he counters, letting his hands roam up over her hips and sides. She’s wearing a green dress with white dots on it today, made of a light material that lets him feel the heat of her body beneath his hands. She sighs, leaning further back into him when he drops his mouth to her neck and presses a kiss to her skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In fact,” he continues, “we should probably do something about it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hears her inhale deeply, and her hand pauses in stirring again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t you have work?” She murmurs softly, tilting her head to the side to allow him better access to her neck. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He smirks into her skin. “There’s more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>pressing</span>
  </em>
  <span> work to do here,” he drawls, thrusting his hips into her backside and letting her feel the nudge of his erection with the words. She gives a soft gasp and arches her back, rolling her hips back against him. The dress she’s wearing today buttons down the front, and the Master’s nimble fingers flick them open from the top, one by one as he rocks against her behind, teeth scraping over her neck, until he can tug open the dress and slip his hand down the front of her bra. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor moans when he rolls her nipple between his fingers, pinching lightly, and then frustrated when he can’t get her breasts free, he grasps both sides of the flimsy undergarment in his hands and </span>
  <em>
    <span>rips.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oscar!” She gasps, “you just -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get you a new one,” he mutters hastily, not wanting to break the mood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes but this was - mmph!” She squeaks when he claps a hand over her mouth, other hand yanking open the front of her dress and ruined bra and groping at her bare chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moans into his palm, tilting her head back against his shoulder, one hand reaching up behind her head to slide her fingers into his hair and pull his mouth back down to her neck. His fingers play with her nipples, rolling and pinching them and the Doctor moans some more, her body going limp and relaxed in his arms. He feels the swipe of her tongue over his palm, and mouths at her neck, groaning softly into her warm skin as licks at him. They’re both panting hard by the time he slips his hand from her mouth, dropping his wet palm to her other nipple and rubbing it in circles over the hardened nub.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling,” the Doctor breathes, fingers tightening in his hair, and he rocks his hips into her, thrusting gently into her backside. One nipple pinched between his thumb and forefinger making her gasp and bite her lip, head tossed back against his shoulder, he drops the other hand, fumbling with her skirts. The Doctor reaches down to help him, gathering them up hastily around her waist so he can slide his hand between her legs. He can feel her damp heat through her knickers, and he hooks his thumb into the top of them to pull them down over her hips and backside, just enough to get his fingers on her bare slick sex.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s hot and slippery between her legs, his fingers delving easily into her folds, finding her clit and pressing against it until she’s mewling softly in between heavy breaths, her knuckles white where her hand is clenched in the skirts of her dress, holding them up at her hips for him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Feels good,” she pants, “like that - </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she enthuses and the Master smiles into her neck, smugly proud to hear her voicing her pleasure like this when just a few weeks ago she - Thea - didn’t even understand what she wanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezes her breasts as he works her with his fingers, one then the other, pinching and rubbing at her nipples roughly, his face buried in her hair as he breathes hard, still rocking into her steadily. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The eggs in the saucepan start hissing, and the Doctor gasps and fumbles to turn the cooker off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Breakfast is burnt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t care,” he smiles into her hair before maneuvering her sideways and pressing her to the counter instead. “Probably safer than a hot stove,” he tells her, nuzzling into her as he pushes his hand further between her legs and slides a finger inside her, “with what I plan to do to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor gasps, and then she turns in his arms, leaning against the counter behind her as she reaches out with frantic fingers to unbuckle his belt and undo his trousers, shoving them and his underwear down enough to release his erection. Her warm hand wraps around him and she strokes it up and down over him, glancing up at him from under her lashes with lust in her eyes. The look on her face is enough to make his hips buck forward of their own accord, the tip of his shaft bumping against her skirts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re a similar height in these bodies, she only an inch or so shorter than him, and it makes it easy for her to gather her dress up again hastily so she can press him between her legs, teasing her clit with the head of his cock, and him to drive forward, sliding himself over her, directly between her legs. They both sigh in pleasure, the slick sounds of him gliding over her filling the room as they start to rock together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor’s hand moves to his hip, guiding him,  going up onto her tiptoes for a better angle as she leans in to the movement, and he stares at her as she gazes down between them, watching as he slides in and out between her legs. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a minute, the Master pushes a hand into her hair, tilting her head up to look into her eyes again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I could come like this you know,” he utters hoarsely, “not even inside you.” He thrusts up with his hips, watching her mouth fall open as he slides over her clit and feels her bore down against him. “Just come between your legs like this, all into your underwear…” his words have the desired effect when she gasps loudly, and her hips jerk against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Would you like that?” He continues with a small smirk, thrusting against her. He leans in to press his mouth to her ear and whisper to her. “Would you wear them all day, walk around with my come inside your panties?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lets out a low, shuddering moan, and nods hastily, fingers tightening on his hips. “Yes,” she breathes, “I would - I will. Do it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Rassilon, she could kill him like this. He gives a breathless chuckle, regretfully slowing down, moving back to look into her eyes. He grins at her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not done with you yet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another gasp tumbles from her, and then he drops both hands to her backside beneath her skirts and thrusts against her hard, once, twice, pulling her down onto his cock as he slides over her from front to back, and on the third she throws her head back and lets out a shriek as she comes, shuddering in his arms.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It physically pains him to withdraw from between her legs, his cock red and engorged, weeping with precum, and his hands shake as he grips her by the waist and lifts her up to deposit her on the counter. He drags her underwear the rest of the way down and off her bare legs, and her thighs fall open for him as he steps between them, gripping her bottom to pull her in to him. He slides into her as if into hot butter, both of them groaning, her small hand flying up to grip a fistful of his shirt, the other braced beside her on the counter as they start to rock together.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s withdrawing all the way each time, slipping out of her until the tip of his cock presses to her entrance before pushing roughly back inside, and the Doctor is moaning with every thrust, voice growing higher as their pace increases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that?” He pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she nods frantically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harder,” the Doctor breathes immediately, and he grins at her proudly, shifting his hand to her thigh to hitch her leg up higher against his side and leaning in to his thrusts as his hips snap into her with more force. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The temptation to finish inside her like this, right now, is high - but the Master isn’t ready for this to be over quite yet - wants to seal this moment in time in a glass box and reside within it forever. After a moment, when they are both sweating and panting, writhing together, he gives a pained groan and slows his thrusts before he pulls out of her, the Doctor gasping and grabbing for him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, don’t stop,” she begs breathlessly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh love,” he tells her, panting hard, as he leans in to press his forehead to hers, “it’ll be worth it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor whimpers quietly, desperately trying to pull him closer, and he catches her hand when she reaches between them for him, just the brush of her fingertips over his throbbing cock enough to make a gasp catch in his throat, hips surging forward. He holds her still, dropping his head to pant into her shoulder as he takes a moment to try to calm his body down, hands gliding all over her heaving form. He starts to nibble at her shoulder, and then shifts down so he can latch on to one of her breasts, enclosing her nipple in his mouth and sucking hard on it as he presses against her warm thigh, resisting the urge to thrust against her. He can feel himself leaking out onto her soft skin, and listens to the Doctor moan in his ear as he sucks and bites at her breast, kneading the other one in his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” he hears her utter almost like an exhale of air, and he glances up at her before deciding to oblige, and sinks down to his knees. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she says immediately, shuffling forward, offering her glistening core to his mouth as she spreads her legs wider. The Master smirks up at her, blowing air on her gently and delighting in the way she gasps and gives a jolt, then he slides one hand down the length of her leg from her thigh to her calf and down until he grips hold of her ankle, and lifts, placing her bare foot on his shoulder and opening her up fully before him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heel digs in, toes curling by his ear as he leans in, and her foot slips to press against his shoulder blade as the Master opens his mouth and sets to work on her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master had never been especially fond of this particular act before - he was good at it, but often found it tedious. He doesn’t know what it is about the Doctor like this - about </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span> that makes him dream of the taste of her, live to make her fall apart pressed right up against his face under the touch of his tongue. Perhaps it is the novelty - the Doctor hadn’t had this particular set of anatomy before - not any of the times they’d been together at least, he mentally corrects, thinking of what he’d learnt in the matrix, and there’s a certain thrill in being able to pleasure her like this. Being able to reduce her to such a beautiful, sweating mess, open and leaking for him, her body screaming out to take in his as he drinks from her core. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is swollen and slippery, and he can taste himself as he laps at her, licking around her entrance and dipping his tongue inside, sucking on her clit until she is practically crying with pleasure. Her orgasm comes fast, her heel digging into the top of his spine almost painfully as she gasps and trembles, fluttering against his mouth and soaking his mouth and chin with her pleasure. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s smirking when he nudges her foot down and stands up again between her legs, licking his lips as he gazes at her cockily. The Doctor exhales shakily and reaches for him, trying to pull him to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you - waiting for?” She pants, the sentence broken with her apparent strain to get the words out in her aroused state, and he takes her face in his hand and kisses her quick and rough, letting her taste herself in his mouth before pulling back to murmur against her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me you want this to be over so soon?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head quickly and he smiles, pressing another kiss to her lips before pulling back to look at her, taking in her heaving form. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand slides from her face to her neck, on the way down to her chest again, but when his fingers lightly encircle her slender throat, the Doctor’s whole body suddenly goes tense beneath him, and he feels her suck in a sharp breath, pulse thrumming beneath his touch - he hastily drops his hand, guilt sliding down his spine like ice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look at each other with wide eyes, and the Master clears his throat, and reaches down to take her hand in his own. Steadily, eyes holding hers, he pulls it up to his neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O?” She utters, brow furrowing in confusion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” he says, pressing her hand to his throat, his own over the top, encouraging her to squeeze. Her eyes widen and he nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Y - you want me to…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small smirk on his lips, the Master tilts his head up, leaning in to the grasp of her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hesitates before giving an experimental squeeze of her hand, and the Master’s breath catches in his throat, eyelids fluttering.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it,” it whispers, and the Doctor stares at him for a suspended second, before suddenly her small hand tightens like a vice around his neck, and she’s surging forward, sliding off the counter and pushing him back, sending him stumbling until he hits the other counter behind and she pins him there, bending him backwards. She yanks his undone shirt open with her other hand whilst her right is still tight round his neck, and leans in to press her open mouth to his collarbone, kissing and nipping feverishly as she grinds against his thigh, squeezing his neck until he can hardly drag in any air at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master closes his eyes, leaning in to the feeling, to the way his head starts to spin and vision darkens around the edges from the lack of oxygen. His respiratory bypass would kick in any moment if she didn’t release him soon but he does not struggle; he lets her have this - lets her have the control like he hasn’t for a long time and it feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredible. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels her teeth sink into his shoulder, her thigh pressing between his and he tries to gasp at the pressure, his body giving a jolt when he’s denied the capability, a choked sound escaping him as he shudders against her. If he’d have been human this would be creeping towards being very dangerous - but he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> and he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care - </span>
  </em>
  <span>is happy to pass out right here on the kitchen floor for her if that’s what she desires -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Suddenly, her hand releases him, and he slumps forward gasping, dragging in mouthfuls of air, coughing and spluttering a bit for a moment before he looks up and sees that she’s stumbled backwards and is braced against the opposite counter staring at him with wide eyes. He smiles, laughing a bit, and her eyes widen further.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How did that feel?” He rasps and a frown flickers across her face before she shakes her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can see that the rush of power has alarmed her - she hadn’t been aware of those feelings as Thea yet, and the way arousal and adrenaline is currently pumping through her blood is probably frightening to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As way of distraction, he strides to her and picks her up by the hips, listening to her squeak in surprise as he stumbles a few steps across the room and deposits her on the kitchen table. “You are,” he breathes lowly as he mouths at her neck, hands dropping to her bare breasts, “incredible…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels her shiver against him. “I am?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yess,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hisses as he pinches both nipples at the same time, making her gasp. He pulls back, gives her a light push and watches her lay back on the table, staring up at him with lust in her eyes as he pushes her skirts up around her waist again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks positively sinful like this - it had been a little odd at first, to see the Doctor so feminine, in dresses with bows in her hair and lipstick swiped across her pretty mouth - but he’s gotten used to it now, and how he </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see her like this. Spread out across their kitchen table for him, her chest bare and heaving, dress bunched up around her waist and bare legs spread, cunt pink and glistening for him, her lips swollen from stimulation. He lifts his eyes to her face and takes in the flush to her cheeks and her parted lips, hair disheveled from his hands, and the Master doesn’t think he’d ever seen something so enticing in all his lives.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you staring at?” She pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about me?” She flirts. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just…” he smirks, letting his gaze slide over her, “thinking about how tempting you look like this.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pleased flush darkens her cheeks further, and she smirks. “Yeah?” She leans up on her elbows, nipples pink and erect as her chest rises and falls rapidly. “Going to do something about it then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master smirks back, and clambers up onto the table with her, both of them grinning as he pushes her back down, leaning in to press an open mouthed kiss to her lips that has her chasing his touch when he pulls away. He moves down to take one of those pretty pink nipples into his mouth instead as he slides his fingers down between her legs. Moving across to the other one he lifts his other hand to place his palm over the wet nipple he’s just left behind, circling it roughly, caressing her until she’s writhing, gasping beneath his touch as she arches into his hand and mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mouth closing fully around a swollen pink bud, he sucks at it, glancing up into her face before he sinks his teeth in, biting down hard enough to make her give a yelp, body jerking beneath his. He releases her to smirk up at her shocked face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I -“ she looks like she’s going to shake her head, but then she pauses, and licks her lips. He can see her thinking as her cheeks flush further. She gives a hasty nod and the Master grins into her skin, repeating the action a little gentler this time, just to hear her gasp again, feel her fingers curl in his hair and clench hard. She tugs at him after a moment, and he crawls up to let her drag him down into a deep kiss. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moans into his mouth as she sucks on his tongue, wrapping a leg around him and tugging him into her, and they both break apart to gasp as he sinks his hips down and slides against her. She moans, tilting her hips up, reaching down between them to try to guide him into her. He pulls back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop teasing,” she utters, and he smirks down at her. “O,” she whines, drawing the syllable out when he still refuses to sink down into her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes my dear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He nudges his nose against hers playfully. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” she murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Specifically.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything,” she replies, the word tumbling from her lips so easily he nearly moans at the wantonness of it. Her wrist squirms in his grasp where he has her hand trapped between them, and he feels the slide of her fingers over the length of his aching cock. He gasps, releasing her hand and letting his eyes slide closed as she wraps it around him and strokes steadily. She lets go after just a moment, fumbling between them, her fingers dropping between her own legs and rubbing over herself, gathering her wetness onto them before sliding her newly slicked hand over his cock again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s almost too much, and he hisses, lifting his hips back; there’s no way he’s ending this by coming into her hand like a horny pubescent boy or some pathetic human. Her gazes down at her twinkling eyes as she looks up at him knowingly and her words echo in his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hearts hammering with excitement, he shifts, starting to shuffling up over her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything, you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor nods eagerly, then he watches her jaw go slack and eyes widen as he settles up by her face, knees either side of her small shoulders.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she utters.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Changed your mind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head hastily, and as he leans down over her and takes his cock in his hand to guide himself to her mouth, she tilts her head back, lips parting to take him in, and with a guttural groan, the Master sinks his hips down to slide into her beautiful hot mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor has always been good at this, no matter what body she was in, and it seems despite Thea having no memories of their countless prior encounters, her instincts do not fail her. Muscle memory, he expects, a little less inclined to be suppressed by the circuit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her tongue presses up against him as she hollows her cheeks and sucks hard enough to have him gasping in just seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Do - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span> - you’re perfect,” he rambles, stomach somersaulting a bit at his near blunder. “So good,” he plunges hastily on, “so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> good love - you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Smirking as much as she can around her mouthful of him, she nods. He gasps at the sensation, then lets his eyes drift shut when he feels her flatten her tongue beneath him and start to massage him rhythmically with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>perfect beneath him like this, spread out on her back half naked and debauched, her hot little mouth wrapped around his cock as she lets him sink his hips into her repeatedly and gazes up at him with devotion in sparkling hazel eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master never wants the moment to end.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He never wants to leave here, wants to just stay like this, with the Doctor, his </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span> forever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It is a silly thought born of lust and pleasure, and he shakes it immediately from his head, glancing down to focus on her instead, on how incredible she looks and feels as she works him quickly towards orgasm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But he can’t see her properly like this, and he needs to </span>
  <em>
    <span>see her </span>
  </em>
  <span>for a distraction from thoughts of forever, and so with a groan he withdraws from her mouth with a wet pop, letting her collapse back down, lips swollen and parted and eyes dark. He shuffles back a bit to appraise her ruined state, taking his cock in his shaking hand and pumping it over himself. Her chest is heaving rapidly, nipples red and hard from the ministrations of his mouth and hands, a pretty flush from her face down over her neck and chest and she’s squirming beneath him, body moving on the table - and that’s when he realises with jolt of heat that makes him gasp, that she has one of her own hands shoved down between her legs, pleasuring herself whilst she had pleasured him. The vision is too much; with another pump of his hand he is coming with a yell, gasping as he spills out all over her chest and neck, leaving her breasts splattered with thick white liquid as she gasps in shock beneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opens his mouth to apologise, still panting hard, a little red-faced - but then she’s tipping her head back and her whole body is arching and going rigid as her mouth falls open and eyes squeeze shut and - oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>rassilon</span>
  </em>
  <span> she is climaxing, splayed out beneath him with his come all over her, and had he still been a woman and capable of doing so the Master knows for a fact he would have just come again himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit,” he curses, rolling off her to collapse beside her on the table, both of them a disheveled mess. “Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>that was hot,” he can’t help but pant. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she agrees from his side as they both gasp for breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a long moment where they both just try to catch their breath, she turns her head to look at him on the table next to her, and bites her lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are gonna be so late for work.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grins. “I know.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what will your boss say? You only started your new position last week, I don’t want you getting into trouble -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh,” he hushes her, chuckling as his hand bumps hers between them and he strokes his fingers over the back of it. “Let me worry about that.” He lets his eyes roam over her, drinking in her ruined state with smugness and a fresh wave of lust. - He definitely couldn’t start </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We should get cleaned up,” he sighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah we really should,” the Doctor gives a little breathless laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master clears his throat. “Sorry - about the uhh...” he trails off awkwardly, eyes flickering down over her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” she shakes her head, her small hand seeking out his between them and clasping it tightly. She smiles. “It was perfect.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Perfect?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. This morning was…” she sounds like she’s going to elaborate, but trails off, clearly unable to find the words, biting her lip instead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he says, and squeezes her hand with a breathless laugh. “It was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Please tell me if you read and it was ok otherwise I'm gonna be hiding forever lmaooo</p>
<p>Idk what happened, blame the smut demons</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After she and O have hastily cleaned themselves up and she’s changed (she mourns the ripped brassiere as she tosses it in the bin but can’t help but think she’d sacrifice all of her undergarments in a heartbeat if it resulted in sex like <em> that </em> -) he leaves for work, kissing her slow and deep by the front door before he goes.</p><p>“Have a good day darling,” Thea smiles, leaning back against the doorframe, arms looped up round his neck.</p><p>“I already have,” he grins, and she giggles as he leans in to kiss her again, just briefly, his tongue swooping the inside of her mouth and leaving her lips wanting more when he pulls away. She watches with dark eyes and a smile on her lips as he plops his hat on his head and winks at her before strolling off. </p><p>“Mrs Smith!” </p><p>She jumps a bit from watching O, turning to see Mrs Peters crossing the street waving. </p><p>She smiles and waves back. “It’s Thea, please,” she says as her friend reaches her garden gate. “Beautiful morning isn’t it?”</p><p>“Lovely!” She agrees. “I’m glad I’ve caught you - just wondered if you’d asked about that book club yet, only Sadie was asking about numbers for this week…”</p><p>“Oh,” she puts a hand to her face. “I completely forgot, sorry.” She glances over at where her husband is just disappearing round the corner out of sight. “I’ll ask O as soon as he gets home tonight. Do you want to come in?”</p><p>“Oh I couldn’t bother you again -“</p><p>“Not at all!” She insists, pleased when her new friend agrees and hurries up her garden path; Thea has never liked spending much time by herself. </p><p>“Your husband’s leaving for work late,” Mrs Peters observes as she bustles inside, taking off her hat and coat and letting Thea lead her through to the kitchen. </p><p>“Yeah,” Thea chuckles, cheeks flushing a little. “He, er… overslept?” She tries as she puts the kettle on to boil. </p><p>“Overslept? Didn’t you wake him?”</p><p>“Well. Yes but - ah!” She gasps, lunging across their room and grabbing Mrs Peters’ hat and coat as she goes to set them down on the table. The table that not half an hour ago Thea had been sprawled across, half naked, with Oscar’s -</p><p>“Sorry,” she laughs, quickly hanging her things up for her on the coat hook beside the back door. “I… haven’t cleaned yet - split something there this morning. Um - why don’t you go and sit down in the other room, I’ll bring the teas through - it’s more comfortable in there anyway.”</p><p>To Thea’s relief, her friend agrees easily, leaving her alone in the kitchen to take a breath as she eyes the table accusingly. </p><p>“Excuse the mess,” Thea says when she moves through with two teas and a plate of biscuits on a tray. She passes one to her friend and sets the tray down on the little coffee table, settling down on the other end of the settee and reaching for the biscuits. “Haven’t had a chance to tidy yet.”</p><p>“Or eat, by the looks of it,” her friend quips, and Thea realises she’d just stuffed two digestives in her mouth in quick succession.</p><p>She laughs, a bit embarrassed as she covers her mouth. “Sorry. O hates when I eat all the biscuits. I’ll have to pop out and buy some more before he gets home tonight.”</p><p>Mrs Peters waves her off, chuckling. They fall quiet as Thea munches and her friend sips tea, before she speaks up. </p><p>“Can I ask you something?”</p><p>She looks curious but hesitant, and Thea tilts her head. “Of course?”</p><p>“I saw your husband kissing you goodbye at the door this morning…”</p><p>Thea waits for her to continue, and Mrs Peters glances down at her tea, her cheeks a bit pink.</p><p>“I can’t remember the last time my Eddy kissed me like that.” She tilts her head at her curiously. “What’s your secret?”</p><p>“Oh,” Thea laughs softly, a flush coming to her cheeks. “I dunno, O was just in a good mood this morning,” she tries to hedge around it.</p><p>“Was he? That’s surprising, when he was running so late.”</p><p>“Mm,” says Thea, taking a sip of her tea. Mrs Peters is looking at her suspiciously over her own cup, and Thea gives a sigh, laughing a little, and drags a hand over her face.</p><p>“Okay,” she says, “he didn’t oversleep, actually he was late because we were… <em> you know </em>…”</p><p>Mrs Peters blinks at her.</p><p>“You know…” she raises her eyebrows pointedly, really hoping her friend catches on without her having to spell it out.</p><p>It’s a few seconds, but then Mrs Peters lets out a gasp. “<em> Oh,” </em>she says, and Thea hides a grin in her tea. “What - in the morning!?”</p><p>“Mhm.” She probably shouldn’t elaborate from there, but the incredible sex had left her feeling buzzed and she just wants to <em> tell </em> someone. She lifts her cup to her lips again, half hiding the next words in it, “in the kitchen.”</p><p>Her friend’s face is a picture, eyes widening with shock. “In the -!?”</p><p>Thea giggles into her tea, enjoying the scandal in Mrs Peter’s voice. She wonders what her friend would think if she knew the <em> type </em> of sex her and O had had in the kitchen… it wasn’t exactly the typical marriage bed kind - not in her previous experience anyway. </p><p>She should probably be mortified - disgusted with herself and O for the things they’d done, but Thea didn’t <em> feel </em> disgusted. It hadn’t felt dirty or wrong - his voice hot in her ear murmuring filthy things, his cock in her mouth, her own hand shoved between her legs and the memory of O coming all over her like that as they finished that’s stuck sharp in her mind… She didn’t feel like he’d done it out of disrespect, she felt… desired. Beautiful. <em> Loved </em>. </p><p>Mrs Peters takes a hasty sip of tea before she looks over at Thea with narrowed eyes. “<em> Spilled something </em>on the table did you?” She says with a knowing smile and Thea laughs brightly, cheeks pink. </p><p>“The table, yes… and the counter.”</p><p>The older woman gives another gasp, and hastily takes another sip of her tea, touching a hand to her curled hair. “Well I never,” she comments, amusement creeping into her voice. “Thea Smith. You are a dark horse, aren’t you?”</p><p>She grins, giving a shrug of her shoulders.</p><p>“Oh - I tried that recipe you gave me yesterday for dinner last night,” Thea says to change the subject, and the two fall into easy conversation for a while. After a bit, there is a lull in their chatter and Thea catches Mrs Peters looking like she’s thinking hard about something. She clears her throat.</p><p>“Do you mind if I ask you something personal Thea?”</p><p>“Oh,” Thea says, surprised, “of course…” She fully expects Mrs Peters to come out with some sort of question about her sex life, since that had been the personal topic of conversation that morning, and braces herself accordingly, but is surprised when something different altogether leaves her lips. </p><p>“How come you and your husband don’t have any children?”</p><p>“Oh,” she says, surprised again.</p><p>Mrs Peters eyes widen and she immediately hurries on. “Is that an insensitive question? Oh I am sorry, it must be awful not to be able to -“</p><p>“No,” Thea quickly says, shaking her head. “No that’s… um. O and I just haven’t really discussed children yet,” she says carefully. They hadn’t really - only decided they would think about it and then have the discussion.</p><p>“Oh I see!” She sounds even more surprised. “So you do want them, then?”</p><p>“I’m…” Thea frowns, picking at her mug as she looks down into it. “I don’t know really. I’d never really thought about it until recently.”</p><p>“Oh but of course you do my dear!” Mrs Peters chuckles. “That’s what a marriage is for isn’t it?”</p><p>“...I guess so.”</p><p>The older woman smiles, and leans over to pat Thea’s knee. “Don’t worry. It’ll happen eventually, and when it does you’ll love them more than you could ever imagine.”</p><p>She glances up. “I will?”</p><p>“Oh yes. There’s nothing quite like being a mother, to have a whole person of your own to bring up the right way. And your children will look after you when you’re older. My Michael’s so good to me - and Violet, even though she’s still at home.”</p><p>Thea finds a wistful smile coming to her lips. “That... sounds kind of nice.”</p><p>“It is,” she says. “You’ll see.”</p><p>--</p><p>The Master is very, <em> very </em>late by the time he walks into the office that morning. His boss is unimpressed, but the Master charms his way out of his tardiness - the bruise across his eye courtesy of the Doctor’s elbow the night before helps with that, a nice bit of proof to back up his claim that he was knocked down by somebody on a bicycle on the way in this morning, and had to go back home to get cleaned up.</p><p>He shuts himself in his little office after waving off offers to take the day off, and there is a smirk he cannot wipe off his lips as he plops down behind his desk that’s owed to more than just the ease with which his idiot coworkers had believed his story. He has only his wife on his mind as he props his feet up on the desk and pulls a stack of papers towards him to flip through his morning’s work, still feeling more than a little pleased with himself for that morning.</p><p>It isn’t until he’s run through a couple of sheets of figures and gathered his papers together for his late morning client meeting that the Master’s hands pause in his work, and his mouth goes suddenly dry as he realises just what he’d thought.</p><p>
  <em> His wife. </em>
</p><p>He’d thought of her as his wife inside his own head without even realising it.</p><p>But the Doctor wasn’t really his wife - Thea Smith wasn’t even technically Oscar’s, only in charade. They’d never had a ceremony, never signed papers - she’d never said yes.</p><p><em> She never would </em> , he thinks immediately. - Thea perhaps, yes, but the Doctor would never, <em> ever </em> agree to be bound to him in such a way. Not that that's something he’s ever wanted. </p><p>But is it now? </p><p>He knows he loves her, knows he wants her like this - really, properly wants her as his own - as more than a friend, more than casual best enemies who only see each other so she can thwart his plans. The Master wants her to be something more, wants to be able to kiss her and touch her and come together with her in a way that was more than just another version of a power play between them. He wants to make love to her like he had done to Thea this morning - and he realises with some significant degree of surprise that his fevered thoughts during the act were not just that; he wants that for real. </p><p>He wants it forever. </p><p>He could never have the Doctor like that, and he knows that. But Thea… he can have Thea, can’t he? He <em> has </em> Thea - as his own; his wife. Thea wants him - Thea <em> loves </em> him, and he tells the little voice in the back of his head reminding him that she only <em> thought </em> she loved him because that’s what he had programmed her to do to shut up. It may have started that way, but he’d heard genuine love in her voice when she’d said the words to him last night, seen it in her eyes, felt it in the way she’d touched him then and this morning. She <em> does </em> love him. She’s the Doctor, and she loves him. She’s everything he ever wanted. </p><p>And the Master decides in that moment that he doesn’t want to let Thea Smith go. </p><p>Ever. </p><p>—</p><p>They don’t make love again that night, but the Doctor draws him to her and kisses him softly after they’ve clambered into bed together, her hand curled in his hair as she gives a contended moan into his mouth.</p><p>She presses one more peck to his lips as they pull away, then smiles at him, settling down against him, both of them on their backs and his arm around her shoulder.</p><p>“Oh, I was going to ask you darling,” she begins.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“There’s a book club I want to join, Mrs Peters invited me. It will just be one evening a week…” she tilts her head up to look up at him. “Can I?”</p><p>“Sure,” he says, “I’ll go too.”</p><p>“No,” the Doctor giggles, “it’s a ladies club.”</p><p>The Master frowns. “That seems a bit unfair.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>She gives a huff, rolling her eyes. “Can I go or not? It starts at eight so I’ll still be able to sort dinner before I go.” </p><p>The Master lets out a sigh. “Fine,” he says, and she smiles brightly and leans up for another kiss before she settles back down.</p><p>“O?” She says again after a minute.</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Can I ask you something else?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“This morning…” she trails off, and when she doesn’t continue he turns on his side to face her. </p><p>“What?” He grins, reaches out to snag her hips beneath the covers, tugging them to his, “want a repeat?”</p><p>She grins back, but shakes her head. “That’s not it.”</p><p>“What then?” He asks, curious now. </p><p>“You know, when we, um…. when you got me to…”</p><p>He tilts his head curiously. “What is it, love?”</p><p>She snakes a small hand up to his neck and curls it around it loosely.</p><p>He smiles. “Ah.”</p><p>He lifts his own hand to cover hers, stroking it lightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you like it?”</p><p>She hesitates before nodding. “Yes. I did like it.” She gives a nervous lick of her lips. “What does that mean?”</p><p>There’s a hint of anxiousness in her voice and the Master chuckles, trying to put her at ease. “Nothing, it means you have kinks, is all.”</p><p>“<em> Kinks?” </em></p><p><em> Whoops </em>- too early for that term maybe? </p><p>“Yes like… things you like. During sex. That are perhaps… considered a little unconventional by some but aren’t uncommon.”</p><p>Her frown deepens. “Oh.”</p><p>He chuckles again, caressing her hip with his thumb where his hand rests on it beneath the sheets. “Don’t worry - I liked it too.”</p><p>“You did?”</p><p>“Very much.” He smirks at her, eyes flickering to her lips. “There are so <em> many </em> things… that you might like…”</p><p>The Doctor inhales sharply before releasing it shakily, eyes dropping to his collarbone as her brow furrows and she appears in deep thought. He wonders if she’s remembering being sprawled over his knee that time, remembering <em> liking it </em> despite herself (because he knew she had).</p><p>Finally she looks up, and when she speaks again bravely it’s his turn to take a sharp inhale of breath. </p><p>“Will you show me?”</p><p>—</p><p>When she has fallen asleep curled against him, her breath hot by his neck and hair tickling his nose, the Master just stays there for a while, listening to her deep even breaths. He marvels at that, the way she slumbers peacefully draped over him, allowing herself to be at her most vulnerable whilst close to him. </p><p><em> The Doctor would never </em>, he can’t help but think. </p><p>Eventually, he carefully unwinds her from him and slips out from beneath the covers. He pulls on a sweatshirt and hastens downstairs, seizing his coat on the way out the back door and heads down the garden into the shed.</p><p>There, the Master pulls out the pocketwatch he’d kept by his side that day after the previous night and stares at it hard, running his thumb over the gallifreyan writing. He considers only for a moment, mind already made up earlier that day, before he grabs out a container of tools, and firing up a torch, the Master carefully, meticulously welds it shut. He places it into an empty tool box, closing the lid and welding that shut too, adding a lock on top for extra security and then stashes it up high on a shelf at the back of the shed.</p><p>He knew he was being selfish… but the Master had everything he never knew he wanted - how could he let her go now? </p><p>“I’m sorry Doctor,” he says quietly out loud, “but you’re happier like this too… none of that pain - trauma. Not knowing what you’ve done - what <em> they </em> did to you… - not knowing what <em> I’ve </em>done… this is better for you. This is better for both of us.”</p><p>And with one last glance at the top shelf, the Master leaves the shed and the Doctor behind, locking the door and heading back upstairs and into bed with Thea Smith. </p><p>--</p>
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<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun wakes the Master up a few minutes before his alarm, streaming in through a small gap in the curtains and beaming directly onto his closed eyelids. He groans, sitting up and rubbing at his face, and grabs the clock beside his bed to squint at the time. Seeing that it was almost time to rise anyway, he swings his legs out of bed with a sigh.</p><p>It was funny - when he first arrived here he never used to sleep through the nights, usually slipping out of bed after Thea had fallen asleep and wiling away the hours downstairs, or neglecting to come to bed at all. He didn’t need half as much sleep as humans, but he <em> could </em> sleep if he wanted to, and he isn’t sure when he just started letting himself fall asleep next to her and dozing through until morning. It was easier this way, the both of them being on the same body clocks, and the days here in this slow pace of life were often long enough to fill without stretching out the nights by himself too. </p><p>Yawning, he wanders over to the window and pulls back the curtains to let the light fully in, smiling a little to see the sun already high in the sky promising a nice day. He casts his gaze down over their little garden, glancing at the flower patch at the end and taking in the beautiful brightly coloured tulips he and Thea had planted there last autumn. He hadn’t been so sure about her rainbow idea, but he’s since had to admit he was wrong when they finally first burst into flower a couple of weeks ago. It’s a shame they won’t last much longer. </p><p>There’s a lot of noise coming from the kitchen already, and the Master supposes he should get down there and see if his wife needed a hand. He washes and dresses, combing a neat parting into his hair, and is pushing up the knot of his tie when he jogs downstairs and rounds the corner into the kitchen. </p><p>“Morning,” he says. </p><p>“Oh morning darling - sorry, I haven’t even started breakfast yet, he’s been crying all morning and I’ve only just gotten him to start eating and -“</p><p>“It’s alright,” he hushes her, crossing the room and leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Thea’s head where she’s sitting at the table. “I’ll do it.” He reaches over to ruffle a much smaller mop of soft dark hair. “You being a little rascal, hm?” </p><p>The baby gurgles from his high chair as Thea lifts a spoonful of food to his tiny mouth. </p><p>“Toast alright?” The Master says as he grabs out some bread.</p><p>“Perfect. Thank you love,” Thea answers from the table. “He’s being so fussy… I don’t know if it’s this different food, I ran out of the other stuff he liked yesterday but he’s just - oh no, no no it’s alright,” she coos at the tiny child as a loud wail sounds out.</p><p>The Master glances over at them. “Maybe he’s teething.”</p><p>Thea looks up in surprise. “Teething?”</p><p>“Yeah. Happens about now doesn’t it?” He says as he sticks toast under the grill and set the kettle to boil. </p><p>“Huh,” she says. “Yeah, you could be right. You poor little soul,” he hears her coo at the baby and smiles. </p><p>By the time he’s set two plates of toast and mugs of tea down at the table and sat down opposite them, Thea has the small child eating off the spoon she lifts to his tiny mouth and the wails have (thankfully) paused for now. </p><p>“Do you have a busy day?” She asks the Master as he eats. </p><p>“Not particularly. Mostly paperwork to catch up on.”</p><p>“Oh how was that meeting - that was this week wasn’t it? The new account for that law firm?”</p><p>“Oh - yes. It was yesterday. It went very well actually - and I meant to tell you yesterday, Mr Hughes has invited us both over to his house for dinner next week.”</p><p>His wife glances over at him. “Your boss - really?”</p><p>“Yes, Tuesday. Something about it being one year since my promotion. I don’t know,” he waves a hand, “Think he’s just pleased I landed that account, wants to show his appreciation.”</p><p>“Well that’s nice,” Thea replies. “Do you... think he’s going to offer you another one?”</p><p>“Promotion?”<br/>“Yeah.”</p><p>He shrugs. “Don’t know. Wait and see I suppose.”</p><p>There’s a crash and they both jump to see that with one swipe of flailing little arms the baby had knocked the jar of food Thea was feeding him from onto the floor, and there’s a second’s pause before his tiny face scrunches up and an ear piercing wail sounds out. </p><p>With a sigh the Master gets up and moves round to help her with the mess on the floor, carefully picking up the shattered pieces of glass jar. </p><p>“It’s alright darling I’ll do it, you’ll be late if you don’t eat your breakfast,” Thea tells him over the crying. </p><p>“I’ll do it,” he insists, nudging her away from the broken shards and food splattered on the floor and nodding upward. “Get the baby.”</p><p>Thea leans in to press a kiss to his cheek before she stands and lifts the wailing infant from his chair, taking him from the room, bouncing and hushing him until the cries fade.</p><p>A short while later, Thea follows the Master to the front door, handing him a paper bag with his lunch inside after he’s shrugged on his coat. He takes it, opening the door. </p><p>“Sorry, it’s only ham sandwiches again. I haven’t had time to shop.”</p><p>“It’s fine. You look tired,” he comments, not unkindly. Thea gives a soft chuckle, hitching the baby up higher on her hip. </p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“It’s Friday,” he reminds her. </p><p>“Mmm thank goodness for that.” She tilts her head up for a chaste kiss when he leans in. “Have a good day,” she offers, turning to slip inside the house and close the door. </p><p>--</p><p>It’s gone eight pm that evening when the doorbell finally rings, and the Master gets up to answer it, leaving Thea with the baby in the sitting room. </p><p>“Evening Mrs Harrison,” he greets her friend politely, waving her in. “How was your trip?”</p><p>“Fine, thank you,” she says as she hurries inside. </p><p>“Go on through, they’re just in the other room.”</p><p>Thea has stood from the sofa, and the Master wanders back in and sits down again, watching as she moves to greet her friend with a bright smile, passing the baby over. </p><p>“There we are,” Mrs Harrison coos, “come to mummy, that’s it.” Thea smiles as the baby gurgles happily, tugging on his mother’s dark hair. “Honestly Thea, I can’t thank you enough,” she enthuses. “Has he been alright?”</p><p>“Oh it’s the least I could do Sarah,” Thea answers, “he’s been an absolute joy, hasn’t he darling?”</p><p>“Quite,” the Master replies politely.</p><p>“How was the funeral?” Thea asks her friend, turning to gather the baby’s things.</p><p>“Oh - fine,” she sighs. “It was a lovely ceremony in the local church.”</p><p>“And Matthew?”</p><p>“He’s alright,” her friend nods. “Doing about as well as you can expect after losing a father, I suppose. It was a long trip there and back too, I think we’re both just glad to get home and into bed tonight.”</p><p>“I can keep him another night if you want so you can get some rest?” Thea offers quickly.</p><p>“Oh no I couldn’t possibly ask you -“</p><p>“Honestly,” she says, “I don’t mind at all.”</p><p>“Thank you Thea, but you’ve helped enough. We really can’t thank you enough.”</p><p>“Don’t mention it,” she smiles. “That’s what friends are for right?”</p><p>“You’re a saint,” Sarah’s smiles, hitching the bag over her free shoulder, and glancing over at the Master. “You both are. I’ll see you at the book club next week Thea?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she smiles, and the Master lifts his hand in a wave before the two women move out into the hall as they say their goodbyes.</p><p>“Thank Oscar properly for me too,” he hears Sarah saying, “I’m sure he’ll be glad to have you back all to himself.”</p><p>“I will,” Thea chuckles. </p><p>The voices lower another step, but the Master can still just about hear what’s been said. </p><p>“How did he find it?”</p><p>“Fine I think,” Thea replies in a hushed voice, “he was really good with him actually.”</p><p>“Well that’s good!” He hears her friend reply. “And you? Maybe you can bring up -“</p><p>Thea hushes her next, and the Master rolls his eyes, shaking his head from the other room. They really were not as subtle as they thought. </p><p>“See you soon then,” Mrs Harrison says, louder to accompany the opening of the front door. </p><p>“Bye Sarah.”</p><p>When the front door closes, Thea wanders back into the sitting room and flops down onto the settee next to him with a dramatic sigh of relief. </p><p>“I loved having him, but god I am glad to say goodbye.”</p><p>The Master chuckles, resting his hand on her legs as she drapes them over his lap. </p><p>“I don’t know how women do it.” She muses.</p><p>“I think you did just fine.”</p><p>“Hardly,” she snorts. “Look at the state of the house. And it was only four days.”</p><p>“I’ll help you tidy tomorrow.”</p><p>“You will?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>She smiles, resting her head on the back of the sofa as she gazes at him softly. “What you reading?”</p><p>He shows her the cover and she snuggles deeper into the end of the settee, pulling a cushion into her lap. “Read to me?”</p><p>--</p><p>They head up to bed reasonably early that night, and change into their nightclothes as Thea chatters on about her day. <br/>“Can you believe that?” She says as they climb into bed together after she’s finished citing some piece of neighbourhood gossip she’d heard. “They’ve only known each other five minutes.”</p><p>“I thought he was seeing that other woman anyway… Lucie something?” The Master replies. </p><p>“Lucie Green - yeah I know! We did too - but apparently that was never serious. And now all of a sudden he’s engaged to this new one.”</p><p>“I bet she’s pregnant.”</p><p>Thea’s eyes widen. “I never thought of that.”</p><p>“Why else would they get engaged after just a few weeks of courting? I’ll bet you anything they’ll be a baby in nine months.”</p><p>Thea gasps quietly. “You could be right! They must be planning a quickie wedding then.”</p><p>“Suppose we’ll find out soon. Do you think we’ll be invited?”</p><p>“Maybe. I don’t know the family that well but they might invite the street if they have a bigger celebration.”</p><p>“Have to wait and see then,” the Master replies. “Where did you hear all this from anyway?”</p><p>“The new milkman. He’s quite the gossip.” </p><p>The Master finds himself clenching his jaw. “Is he.”</p><p>Thea nudges him. “Don’t start. You were always so rude to poor Mr Andrews before this one took over, and then he went and had that awful accident.”</p><p>“That was… unfortunate,” he agrees carefully. </p><p>“Bet you wish you’d been kinder to him now.”</p><p>The Master frowns. “Why?”</p><p>“Well because - because of what happened to him. Such a shock too. It just shows you - any day can be your last.”</p><p>The Master lets out a huff. “Are you going to start banging on about this <em> again?” </em></p><p>“He was killed Oscar,” Thea replies. </p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“I’m allowed to be upset. I liked him.”</p><p>“He liked you too,” he snipes back bitterly. </p><p>“He’s dead!”<br/>“He still fancied you when he was alive.”</p><p>Thea groans. “I’m too tired for this tonight,” she complains, rolling over onto her side facing away from him. </p><p>The Master sighs, reining in the irritation he can feel building in his head behind his eyes, and takes a few deep breaths, in through his nose, out through his mouth, just like Thea had shown him, until his head feels calm again. </p><p>“I’m sorry love.”</p><p>Thea sighs too. “S’okay.”</p><p>He reaches out and brushes her hair back from her neck, leaning in to press his lips to the side of it gently. Thea breathes out softly, relaxing back against him when he shuffles in close, and the Master continues his kisses, down along the side of her neck and over her shoulder, sliding an arm around her waist. She is soft and relaxed in his arms as he runs his hand over her stomach, and pushing his luck, he reaches down for her nightdress, ready to draw it up. </p><p>“Oscar no, I’m exhausted,” she groans, pushing him away, and he sighs and flops over onto his back. “Sorry.” She adds.</p><p>“It’s alright,” he says, and reaches out a hand to rub over her back. “Get some sleep.”</p><p>“Mmmm,” she hums, relaxing into his touch. “I’ll make it up to you.”</p><p>“Can’t wait,” he chuckles.</p><p>“Feels good.”</p><p>He shifts beside her, kneeling up to nudge her down onto her stomach where he places his two hands on her back and begins to steadily massage her upper back and shoulders.</p><p>Thea gives a blissed out groan, eyes falling shut as she lets herself go completely limp under her husband’s hands.</p><p>“Better?” He asks quietly after a moment and she moans in confirmation. </p><p>“Much. M’still not having sex with you tonight,” she mumbles sleepily into her pillow, and he chuckles.</p><p>“I know.” he drops a kiss to the back of her neck. “Sleep.”</p><p>It isn’t long before she drifts off under the touch of his hands, and the Master pulls the covers up to her neck and settles down beside her, listening to her deep even breaths and thinking how glad he was that tomorrow was Saturday and they could both sleep in a little due to him not having work.</p><p>How funny to think back to a year ago when they’d first arrived here and he could hardly stand to be around her for more than an hour, and dreaded the weekends when he was forced into confinement with her for the longest periods of time the most. It was funny… a year was a relatively short time in the Master’s long, long life, but this time spent here, with Thea was starting to feel like he’d never known anything else. Sometimes there were moments when he forgot, just for a split second - believed his own lie and imagined an entire lifetime spent in this place and a whole marriage. </p><p>That hardly mattered now anyway. What was and wasn’t past was irrelevant; they were here now, together. This was their life, and they were happy - it was the most content the Master ever remembered feeling in a very long time. Funny that, when the time period they were stuck in was so simple too. </p><p>Perhaps simplicity had been all the Master was craving all along. </p><p>—</p><p>They spend Saturday morning cleaning and tidying the house, and Thea makes good on her promise the following afternoon. Thoroughly. </p><p>The Master strains against the ties around his wrists, squirming where he lays trapped on his back, unable to do anything but watch as his wife undresses him, sliding his trousers and underwear down his legs and leaving them around his thighs, his erection left free and aching for her attention. </p><p>He sighs and groans as she kisses her way up over his thighs first, then his hips, letting him feel the feather-light brush of the ends of her hair against his cock but nothing more, before her mouth is moving up over his torso and neck, and then she’s kissing him deeply before she climbs astride him, already naked, and rises up on her knees. She settles over him where she now straddles his head, pushing her hand into his hair and clenching tight as she looks down into his face with lust-clouded eyes filled with mischief.</p><p>The Master is only too happy to oblige her, tilting his chin and opening his mouth to lap at her as she holds his head in place and lowers herself onto his mouth. </p><p>She lets him pleasure her for a minute, eyes fluttering closed as her hips rock gently over him, and then she pauses, panting, and flashes him a look that makes his cock twitch and heat flood his whole body. </p><p>“Deep breath,” she purrs, and reaching down, Thea gives him a glittering smirk before she places a thumb and forefinger over his nose and pinches, then presses her hot, slick cunt to his mouth once more. </p><p>His hands gripping the headboard where they are bound, the Master gives her all she asks for, gasping in short sharp mouthfuls of air whenever she lifts her hips just briefly enough to let him do so, and tonguing at her furiously when she presses down against him, letting her push him to the edge when his head starts to spin and his bypass threatens to kick in over and over again. He feels as though the weight is starting to leave his body, fingers and toes tingling, and cock leaking out over his stomach as his body is pushed to its limits when her hips start to jerk on top of him, and she bores down hard against him, and then she’s coming with a cry of pleasure. </p><p>He’s gasping when she lifts off his face and releases him, but she scarcely gives him a moment to collect himself before she’s curled against his side, her small warm hand wrapped around him, working him quickly, lips on his neck until he’s coming over her hand and his abdomen. </p><p>Looking pleased with herself, Thea clambers over and produces a handkerchief from the nightstand, and carefully wipes them both clean as the Master lays sprawled on his back, boneless and panting. She disposes of it before reaching up to untie him, and he brings his arms down gratefully, rubbing at his wrists where he’d tugged against the restraints as Thea had had her way with him. </p><p>She kisses his wrists and then his lips before pulling the covers up over them and snuggling into his side. </p><p>“It’s mid-afternoon love,” the Master chuckles. </p><p>“I know,” she mumbles, sounding content, “Just wanna lay here for a little while.”</p><p>He gives another soft laugh, burying a hand in her hair and letting his eyes slide closed as she kisses him again, slower this time. </p><p>“Love you,” Thea says when they’ve parted and she rests her head on his shoulder again. </p><p>The Master drops his hand from her hair to wrap his arm around her, pulling her warm form close against his side. </p><p>“Love you too, sweetheart,” he says softly, and feels her smile against his skin. </p><p>--</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Their bedroom is cold, and Thea closes the door behind them, turning to hurry over to her closet to find a nightdress so she could get into bed as hastily as possible. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea pauses at the sound of her husband’s voice from across the room. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He is unknotting his tie, and his eyes roam over her from top to bottom, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips. “Undress.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea hesitates, eyes her dresser in the corner of the room where she’d been headed, but something in O’s eyes holds her on the spot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s cold,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll warm you up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How?” She says dumbly, realising as soon as that smirk on his face widens. “Oh.” She drops her eyes, unsure why the idea made nerves bubble inside her. Her and her husband had made love countless times before. Hadn’t they?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea glances back up at him, and tries to ignore the butterflies in her stomach. She nods quickly. “Of course,” she answers, hands lifting to her dress to start unbuttoning the front.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O sits on the bed and leans back on his hands, dark gaze locked onto her body as she slowly reveals more and more of it to him, something akin to amusement that she doesn’t understand dancing in his gaze. When she’s finally stepped out of her underwear, shivering a little, he beckons her over with a finger, and once she is close enough, snags her hand and pulls her down onto the bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea feels a large hand round the back of her neck, pressing her down into the mattress on her stomach as O shuffles about behind her, presumably hastily undressing himself enough so that when he lowers his hips down to hers, she feels the brush of his hardened cock against her thigh. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart is beating fast and she isn’t sure why. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Up,” he mutters, hiking her hips up off the bed so she’s on her knees which he nudges wide. Her husband takes her like that, one hand still holding her down by the back of her neck and the other on her hips, pulling her to him as he thrusts roughly into her, hips slapping against her arse. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and tears sting in Thea’s eyes, her mouth open and fists clenched in the covers she’s sprawled over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wants to say something, ask him to pause a moment or at least slow down… but she’s his wife. Isn’t she? This is what she’d agreed to when she married him, and if it was hurting a little more than usual, well… Thea knew she just had to grit her teeth and bear it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Warmed up yet?” He gloats from behind her, and Thea takes a breath, swallowing down the lump in her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes dear,” she replies quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hips pick up their pace, so he’s rutting into her fast, shoving her up the bed a little with each thrust, and Thea’s mouth falls open, eyes squeezing shut as she takes what her husband gives her and tries to switch off from the inexplicable pain, wondering how this could be called ‘making love’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Thea wakes up with a gasp, she is crying, and it takes her a moment of laying there with overwhelming hurt coursing through her until she realises it was a dream. She’s safe, in her bed, with her husband who </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves her. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The thing is though, although the specifics were blurry, what Thea had dreamt was not an imaginary scenario, but a memory, dating back a year or so ago, to a time when things had been… tense between her and O. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The bed shifts next to her, and she feels a hand on her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea?” Rasps a voice, groggy with sleep. “What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she says, wiping a tear from her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea?” He leans up behind her, reaching out to brush her hair from her face and she pulls away from him abruptly. There’s a sharp pause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you have a bad dream?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She scrubs at her eyes. “Yeah,” she whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Want… to talk about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s another pause before, hesitantly, O reaches out to rub over her shoulders. She recoils, his touch like acid on her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t touch me,” she’s snapped before she can stop herself, and the hand is gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s an uncomfortable pause.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What did you dream about love?” O finally asks, his voice gentle and tentative. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea swallows hard, a snappy reply on the tip of her tongue that she takes a moment to think through. The O in her dream… wasn’t the man in bed with her now. Was he? Her husband was different now, Thea felt safe and loved in her marriage instead of used and uncared for. She didn’t really know what had brought about the change but… that didn’t mean that Oscar hadn’t made her feel that way at some point. She doesn’t want things to ever go back to how they were between them, and Thea decides after a minute that being honest about it would be the best course of action.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So “You,” she answers quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A beat. “Oh.” O clears his throat. “Not good things, I take it,” he says quietly, and the twinge of hurt in his voice almost makes her want to take back her word. Almost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. Not good things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hears him swallow. “What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing, really,” she replies. “We were making love, that’s all. But it wasn’t… I didn’t… I don’t know. You hurt me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea sniffs. “It was just a dream.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Was it?” Oscar replies, voice tight. After a moment, Thea turns over, rolling onto her other side so she is facing her husband and can look him in the eye. O lifts a hand, as if he’s going to touch her face but he pauses before it reaches its destination, and it hovers between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I?” He asks softly, and after a beat, Thea nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His fingertips brush her hair back from her eyes and his hand settles on the side of her face, thumb wiping across a damp cheek. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I won’t hurt you again,” he murmurs after a moment, “you have my word.” A tiny smirk quirks at his lips. “Unless you ask me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A small puff of laughter escapes her, but the smile falls from her lips as quickly as it appeared. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks down, frowning as she fiddles with the buttons on his sleep shirt. “You can’t always help it though, can you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hears him swallow. “I’m… trying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea sighs, letting her eyes slide closed. “I know,” she says, and shuffles in to tuck her head in against his neck, feeling O wrap his arms carefully around her and pull her close. He was trying, and it had been a while now since he’d truly lost his temper. Thea was learning to deal with it when it happened better too now, and she and O had had some frank discussions during which she’d told him plainly that she wouldn’t stand for him taking out his frustrations on her anymore, be that in the bedroom or out of it. That had seemed to go in at least, and Thea felt more like his equal in their marriage now rather than her husband’s property. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Still…. there would always be that little bit of fear of him that resides somewhere deep within her, for she didn’t think his unpredictable nature could ever truly completely change. Thea was learning to be okay with that - fear wasn’t necessarily always a bad thing. Fear kept her alert - and safe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And (perhaps foolishly), fear didn’t stop her from loving him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Go back to sleep, sweetheart,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to the top of her head, “I’ve got you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Monday comes around quick, and passes by, and Tuesday evening finds her and O walking the streets to his boss’s house arm in arm, chatting easily about this and that until they arrive at their destination and O raps on a red door settled at the front of a large, smart looking house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea smiles brightly when a cheerful looking balding man opens the door and invites them in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My wife, Thea,” O introduces her to his boss, his hand on the small of her back, and Mr Hughes takes her hand, shaking it politely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My,” he says, “Mr Smith didn’t tell me how beautiful you were, how did you land a woman like this?” He teases, nudging O as they move inside the house.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m a very lucky man,” he says, his dark gaze catching Thea’s and making a pleasant flush rise to her cheeks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar helps her out of her coat and Mr Hughes takes both of them, before ushering them through into his home. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They’re introduced to O’s boss’s wife, a friendly grey-haired lady with pink cheeks and a beaming smile, and she shows them through to the dining room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have a lovely house, Mr and Mrs Hughes,” Thea says politely, and launches into easy conversation with the latter as Mr Hughes gets them all seated and pours out their drinks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar has only ever spoken highly of his boss, and Thea instantly approves of his judgement, liking the older couple immediately, and feeling welcome and at ease in their home by the time Mrs Hughes serves up dinner. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mr Hughes, it seems, shares an equally high opinion of her husband, praising his work with enough sincerity in his voice to make Thea feel immeasurably proud of O.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well,” she says, “It’s certainly wonderful to know he’s appreciated. He’s a very clever man.” She catches Oscar’s eyes as she speaks and something warm flashes in them that makes her smile before dropping her eyes to her plate. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That he is indeed,” Mr Hughes agrees easily. “I mean… I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead but Mr Smith has done more for the company in the year he’s been with us than the chap in the position previously did in five.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea looks up in surprise. “The - dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he glances to Oscar, who clears his throat and hurries on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well thank you Mr Hughes that’s very kind of you. I expect a lot of it is as much luck as skill though - I seem to have had a run of very good clients.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nonsense!” His boss laughs, but Thea can’t forget what was uttered before. “Why, just last week we -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you mean, speak ill of the dead?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea,” O mutters from her side, “it’s not polite to interrupt love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No no, that’s quite alright,” Mr Hughes says. “Why, I was just referring to the chap who’s job your husband stepped into. You must have heard about the misfortune that landed him the opportunity?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Awful business,” Mrs Hughes speaks up from across the table.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, awful,” agrees O’s boss. “Poor Mr Chambers couldn’t have been more than thirty-five. Dreadful business, murder.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea feels all the blood drain from her face. The food on her fork drops to the plate but she doesn’t notice, staring across the table at Mr Hughes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr… Chambers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It couldn’t be. Surely - Chambers wasn’t an uncommon name.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” he nods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is lovely,” Oscar speaks up suddenly from Thea’s side, “this sauce is delicious Mrs Hughes, Thea you must ask Mrs Hughes for the recipe, if she’d be so kind?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, certainly!” His bosses wife speaks up, but Thea shakes her head with a frown, refusing to drop it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry - Mr Hughes, did you say a Mr Chambers? Only I knew a Mr Chambers - sort of, we met once at a friends wedding -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, that’s right. Jim Chambers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea can only stare, her head spinning, horror welling inside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh dear,” Mr Hughes says, clearing noticing her distress. “Was it the same man? You hadn’t heard?” He glances to Oscar then across to his wife who clears her throat and jumps in to help.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr Smith mustn’t have known you were acquainted. Or did you not tell him Mr Chamber’s name perhaps dear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No I’m…” Mr Hughes shakes his head, “fairly certain I mentioned it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a horrible, cold pause, as nobody in the room seems to know what to say and Thea’s head spins, bile rising in her throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Next to her, O finally sighs and puts down his fork. “I did know. I didn’t want to upset you, love, that’s why I never mentioned it. Such an awful thing to have happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh I’m terribly sorry,” Mr Hughes speaks up, and O shakes his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s alright. Thea -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head tensely, shrugging off his hand and rising abruptly from the table. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Excuse me - can I use your lavatory?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh certainly dear, it’s just down the hall and left at the end,” Mrs Hughes says quickly, and Thea gives a swift nod before hurrying off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Inside the bathroom, she braces her hand on the closed door and breathes hard through her nose as she tries to make sense of the information she’s learnt, and frantically tries to reason with the horrible, awful thought that’s settling in her mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is granted only a moment of privacy however, before there’s a knock on the door that makes her stumble away from it in surprise.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t answer her husband, breathing hard as she stares at the closed door.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” He tries the handle and she’s thankful she remembered to turn the lock when she shut herself in here. “Can I come in?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she manages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea.” She hears a sigh then a soft thud she presumes is his forehead hitting the door. “Please. Let me talk to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t want to talk. Not here anyway. Lurching forward, she opens the door so suddenly that Oscar stumbles on the other side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to go home,” she snaps shortly, striding past him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hears him hurry after her, hears his frantic apologies to Mr and Mrs Hughes as he explains that he’s terribly sorry his wife isn’t feeling well so they must cut the evening short, is out the door before he’s even had time to help her into her coat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea! Slow down!” He calls after her, rushing down the Hughe’s front garden path and grabbing her by the arm. She wrenches it free. “At least put your damn coat on.” She grabs it from him, shrugging it on as she takes off walking fast down the street. She can’t think and she needs to </span>
  <em>
    <span>move</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea!” Oscar jogs to fall into step beside her. She ignores him. “Are you really that upset?” He scoffs, “you barely knew the man.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard about it.” Thea says, ignoring his question. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I heard… I heard that a friend of Mrs Peters son in law was killed last year, murdered outside a restaurant in town but I never heard the name.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... Oh.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fact I’m fairly certain I mentioned it to you too, since it was a restaurant we’d dined at that same week.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you? I don’t recall…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Liar</span>
  </em>
  <span>, she bites back. Her heart is pounding and she feels sick to her stomach, dread filling every inch of her body like tar, making her limbs feel heavy and lungs burn as she hurries down the road, round the corner and crosses onto the next street with O hurrying to keep up with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, she forces out the words that have been hammering the inside of her skull. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you kill him?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What!?” Oscar laughs, “Sweetheart, you’re being -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She snaps, wrenching her arm away when he tries to take it, whirling to face him with fury flashing in her eyes. “Don’t… don’t tell me I’m being ridiculous!” She backs away from him, shaking her head, “That wasn’t a promotion, was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O frowns in confusion. “What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Last year! This - it wasn’t a promotion - you and Jim Chambers didn’t work together - you didn’t even know each other. If you’d already worked at the same company you’d have known him before!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watches the adams apple in O’s throat bob, sees the way he clenches his jaw. “What are you saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You killed him,” Thea swallows, taking another step back, “You murdered him and took his job… didn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A pause. “Of course not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You hesitated.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh - love, keep your voice down please, there’s people in these houses -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why!?” She demands, “Scared they’ll hear that you’re a murderer?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s enough!” He grabs for her again but she dances away. “Let’s go home and talk about this calmly -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want the truth Oscar!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At home,” he tries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Now!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thea snaps. Her voice shakes on the word but she holds herself fast, refusing to look away from her husband’s dark eyes until he gives in, breaking the gaze and snapping his own to the cobbled street.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He threatened me,” he finally relents, and Thea gasps, turning and doubling over, hand to her mouth. “Thea - listen - we, we fought - about you, he threatened to hurt you, said he’d kill me - he had a knife! I managed to grapple it off him and - it all happened so fast -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh god,” she says, breath coming out quick, “oh god it’s true, you’re a murderer…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I did it to protect you!” He hisses, hand on her shoulder, pulling her upright to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She whirls round, throwing him off. “And then took his job!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar looks away from her eyes, clenching his jaw. “That was… a coincidence.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t know where he worked! I -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you!” She shouts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea - you’re making a scene! People will hear you -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He grabs for her arm again and she wrenches it free, shoving him and sending him stumbling backwards. “I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>care!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I just found out I’m married to a liar and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>murderer</span>
  </em>
  <span>, if I -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea! Just - just calm down, look let’s just go home and we can talk about this -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She lurches back as he makes another grab for her, but he manages to catch her wrist by her coat, fingers tight around the sleeve as Thea struggles to throw him off. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let go!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You need to </span>
  <em>
    <span>calm down!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He hisses, dragging her to him and trying to get hold of her properly. She struggles frantically in his grasp, shoving and hitting at him, finally stomping hard on his foot with the heel of her own and ducking free of his hold when he staggers back with a yelp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You - </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch</span>
  </em>
  <span> - come back here!” He barks, pain in his voice as he hops on the side of the road, but Thea isn’t listening, she isn’t thinking, head rushing with thoughts, heart aching and stomach churning, the only thing clear in her mind in that moment is </span>
  <em>
    <span>get away from her husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She doesn’t look, doesn't even hear the rough engine that signals a car rounding the corner as she turns and runs across the road, doesn’t hear any noise at all until it’s the screeching of brakes, and a blinding flash of light in her eyes and it’s too late. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Is the last sound she hears, the scream of O’s voice before the car slams into her side and everything goes black. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There’s light behind her eyelids.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That’s the first thing she notices, the first thought that occurs to her, and she is afforded a minute or so of blissfully confused peace as she tries to decipher where she is and why she feels so… strange, before everything comes crashing back over her with the force of a tidal wave, and she lurches upright with a gasp.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Blinding pain shoots through her side, and she’s screaming, curled on her side in agony and there’s voices around her and gentle firm hands pushing her, trying to manoeuvre her over but all she is aware of for a moment is </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...morphine, here,” are the first actual words she registers through the fuzz of noise, and then a hand on her forehead, gentle, warm, </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiar, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she’s forcing her eyes open to meet with a pair of dark ones.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious </span>
  </em>
  <span>and upset - but confused, first and foremost, and looks around, blinking in the lights.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where am I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice sounds scratchy and quiet, and she coughs after speaking, moaning at the pain it sends shooting through her. She makes an attempt to sit up again but more than one set of hands press her back down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just relax there Mrs Smith,” an unfamiliar voice says calmly, “you’ve got several broken ribs and we’re still not certain there’s no internal bleeding, you need to lay as still as possible.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A hand clasps hers and squeezes. “You’re in hospital love,” says her husband’s voice. “You were hit by a car, do you remember?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Squeezing her eyes shut, Thea hears the screech of brakes, sees the flash of headlights and remembers the smack of the collision, the force of being thrown, panic -</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Easy,” O’s hand squeezes hers. “Breathe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She does. In, and out, steadily, racing heart slowly calming after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I remember,” she rasps.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you… remember anything else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anything else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Before - that evening?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I…” that fury is back, rage coursing through her body that Thea can’t pinpoint. Something feels off, but she doesn’t know what. She tries to cast her mind back, skims over the accident itself, remembers being in the road, running, remembers the anger she had been driven by… but why was she angry?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We…” she frowns, shakes her head, and looks up at O. “Did we fight?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He frowns back, looks concerned. “You don’t remember?” She thinks hard and her head aches. She closes her eyes, shaking her head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t remember anything, just… the car hitting me.” She opens her eyes to look at him. “What was I doing in the road?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s enough now,” says the other voice, and Thea diverts her gaze to see a gentleman in a white coat fiddling with a machine by her bedside. “No over exerting her - Mr Smith?” He says sternly, and her husband nods, looking chastised. “You should rest,” the doctor says to Thea. “And you’d do well to go home and get some rest of your own sir. She’s stable for now - she’ll be fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, you’re right,” O replies, then glances at Thea. “Might I just say goodbye to my wife? In private?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor gives a nod and a smile. “Of course. I’ll be back to check on you later Mrs Smith. The nurses are around, call if you need anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea manages a weak smile. “Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The doctor steps outside the area and pulls across the curtain round her bed, affording her and her husband some privacy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She squeezes tight to his hand. “Don’t go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Oscar squeezes back, lifting the other to brush back her hair. “Just for a few hours, love - I should really wash and change at least.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea blinks at him, realises how worn out he looks, dark hair limp and messy around his face like he’s been running his hands through it repeatedly, eyes bloodshot and rimmed in dark circles, clothes rumpled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How long have I been out?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Two days.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Oh.” She feels numb. “Haven’t you left?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How could I?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stare at each other a moment before O clears his throat. “So uh… you really don’t remember what happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea tries to think hard, but everything is so fuzzy and her head </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She shakes it with a frown. “Just the car hitting me. And… I remember that I was angry. What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O releases a breath. “We were walking home from the Hughes’. We squabbled - it was trivial. I don’t even remember what it was over, but you know how we can both get once we’re wound up and - I tried to take your arm and you pulled away and turned and ran across the road without looking…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She frowns. “Is that it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” He gives a heavy sigh, drops his head to lean it on the hand clasping her own. “You scared the life out of me,” he mumbles, and not knowing what else to do, Thea squeezes his hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” she rasps. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts his head after a moment, looks her in the eyes. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea’s brow furrows as she shifts a bit. She can feel the morphine they injected her with dulling all her pain sensors, but even with it she can tell that her body doesn’t feel right. “How bad is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you really want to know?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your ribs are the worst. Six broken I think they said, on the right side. A broken wrist. They thought your leg might be too but it seems to be okay. Shoulder was dislocated, that’s been set. You’ve got a nasty bump and gash on your head but now that you’re awake and coherent that’s a good sign.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea lets all that sink in, tries not to let it overwhelm her. “The doctor said something about internal bleeding?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re just being cautious I think. The worry was that your broken ribs could have punctured a lung but I’m fairly certain that would be obvious by now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hand smooths back her hair. “The most important thing is for you to rest right now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “I am kind of tired.” Which was bizarre when she’d only been awake ten minutes or so. She supposed the trauma and medication they had her on would do that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The curtain is suddenly yanked back, and a portly older woman stands at the foot of the bed with a hand on her hip. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr Smith you should not be winding her up,” she snaps. “She needs to rest and you’d do well to leave her to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, you’re right,” O says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Change those drips Abigail,” the older nurse directs a younger girl who ducks past her with a nod.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>O clears his throat as the young nurse starts fiddling the other side of Thea’s bed. “I’ll be back later, love.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea nods, and releases his hand as he stands from his chair by her bedside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get some rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You too,” she tells him, and after a second’s hesitation O leans down over her to press a heated kiss, full of emotion to her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sinks into it for a second, eyes fluttering shut, before she gives a small noise of discomfort when the movement jostles her head, and he quickly pulls back, mouth going to her ear to whisper an apology. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” he breathes, and presses one more kiss to her cheek before he withdraws and walks away.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of a throat clearing draws Thea’s attention, and when she glances round there is a blush on the young nurse’s cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles at Thea when she catches her looking. “Newlyweds?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh - no,” Thea says with surprise. “No, we’re not.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, pausing before she gives herself a shake and continues what she’s doing. “Your husband must love you very much. How long have you been married?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh we…” Thea trails off, realising with a start that she can’t recall. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That long huh?” Abigail smiles. “I’m engaged myself. Not a week today.” There’s excitement and joy in the young woman’s voice, and Thea manages a weak smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m already thinking about planning. Did you have a big wedding?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We -“ Thea tries to think, but again, her head feels fuzzy and dull and she cannot bring up specifics for the life of her. How can she not remember her wedding day?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Abigail!” The older nurse from before appears at the foot of Thea’s bed again. “Leave this poor woman to rest and get on with the rest of your duties!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes matron,” she ducks her head immediately, gathering her things and scurrying off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The older woman glances at Thea. “Sleep is the best thing for you at the moment dear. The doctor will be back round later.” Thea nods and the nurse pulls the curtains back round her bed, and exhaustion quickly takes over, sending her back into unconsciousness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The house is eerily quiet without his wife home, and the Master tosses the keys to the kitchen table, before sinking down into a chair and placing his head in his hands. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>These past two days had been some of the worst in his long life - and taking into account everything he’d been subjected to over the millenia, that was saying something. The fear he’d experienced as he watched the Doctor get hit, thrown into the air and seen her collapse motionless on the ground in the road - those horrifying seconds as he ran to her when he’d feared the worst… he doesn’t ever remember being so afraid of anything. The rest was a blur, two days flown past in worry and fear, one question hammering at his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>What happens if she dies? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s exhausted, relieved now that she had woken and seemed stable - but he has to know - </span>
  <em>
    <span>he has to know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath that shakes a little, the Master drags himself up and heads upstairs. He washes quickly and pulls on a fresh set of clothes, grabbing some things for Thea before heading back down and leaving the house, locking it up. He walks fast, feet pounding the pavements on a route that was familiar but one he hadn’t trodden in some time. He passes the park, heads down a small side street and slips into a tiny alleyway between two buildings, coming to a stop in front of his destination. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Tardis sits unassumingly where he had left it, an old police box tucked away here where nobody who stumbled across it would pay it any mind. There is a quiet hum coming from it, but he suspected no human would be able to detect the sound. Hands shaking a bit, the Master pulls out the key from his inside pocket, sticks it in the lock, and turns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her console room is dark, just a soft yellow, strangely eery glow from the centreary rotar, and no lights switch on as he lets the door swing shut behind him and climbs the steps to the console. He pauses, takes a breath, and presses a button to bring the machine to life out of standby mode. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master huffs and jabs at it again. The Tardis does not make a sound. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on… I need your help,” he mutters. A soft whirr purrs out - low, rumbling, like a growl. A warning. He tries another switch round the other side, pulls a lever, hits a series of buttons and finally slams his fist down on the controls with enough force to startle the machine into waking up with a furious snarl. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There,” he mutters, able to see a bit better now the lights have come on and the control panel glows, “Wasn’t so hard was it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The chameleon arch is still there, abandoned all set up right next to the console where they had used it, and after a brief pause, the Master grabs for some wires, sticking them into the console and pulling the monitor towards him to tap at the keypad quickly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Tardis makes an irritated beep, affronted at being accosted in such a way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh you shut up,” he hisses, giving the console a thump with his fist for good measure. The ship whirs angrily, and the monitor flashes and goes blank. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” he growls irritably, “no no no - work damnit it - this is important!” He jabs his finger repeatedly on the keys before relenting with a frustrated yell, and childishly kicking the underneath of the console. The tardis gives another low growl, snarling at him in contempt. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” he sighs. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> alright - I know this is my fault. I know I hurt her. There’s a time when I would have revelled in that but…” He pauses, licks his lips before carrying on. “Things have changed,” he mutters. “I don’t want to hurt her anymore.” Silence. He huffs. “Listen - she was unconscious for two days after finding out something… something she didn’t approve of about me - I could easily have wiped it from her mind but I didn’t! That counts for something doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What he tells the ship is the truth; the Master hadn’t touched her memory. The temptation had been great, while he sat by her side at that hospital bed, her small hand in his and eyes closed, the steady beat of a heart monitor sounding out. It would have been so easy just to touch his fingertips to her head and pluck the memory of that dinner from her mind, put everything right between them again… But he couldn’t do it. He’d taken enough from her, messed with her head enough, skewed her into something he wanted then trapped her here, he… he couldn’t play with her head anymore. He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want to</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She wasn’t his toy to manipulate however which way took his fancy, and the Master sorely regretted ever having done so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a stroke of pure luck that Thea </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> in fact remember any of that night, and the Master wonders perhaps if that was fate’s strange way of rewarding him for doing the right thing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He takes another breath, and tries again. “Look, I know we’ve never gotten along but this is for the Doctor - you care about her don’t you? Or at least she claims you do… never had much of a bond with my Tardis myself, don’t know whether she’s making it up half the time…” he mutters, then looks up with surprise when the screen blinks back into life. “I guess not,” he comments. “Uh - thanks.” The word feels thick on his tongue, especially directed at a sentient ship that wasn’t going to reply. The Mater thinks perhaps the lights in the console room brighten just a tad, though. Clearing his throat he gets to work, searching databases and any information he can pull up on the chameleon circuit he has plugged into the machine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His research is inconclusive. The circuit itself is not something that has been studied or even used enough to be able to find an answer to his question - which means that the Master cannot rule out what he fears: if she dies here, as a human, the Doctor could cease to exist permanently. No more regenerations. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a time when he would have been gleeful at the idea (or at least told himself he was), but that time has long since passed. The fact that the Doctor could have died when the car hit her - not just Thea,</span>
  <em>
    <span> the Doctor </span>
  </em>
  <span>- hits him full force, and he suddenly finds himself shaking violently, limbs weak, and has to sink down to sit on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t have let her go - would have raced back home, broken open that watch and let her turn back into herself and regenerate before he let her die - but what if it had been instant? What if the car had killed her when it hit her, and by the time he’d gotten home and into the watch it had been too late; there was nothing to turn back? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This train of thought leads the Master to an alarming another - she </span>
  <em>
    <span>would die </span>
  </em>
  <span>here, eventually, wouldn’t she? Even if he could keep her safe forever, humans had horribly fleeting life spans compared to their own species - and then what? Would he watch her grow old whilst he never changed? Watch her get frail and weak, watch her suffer, get ill, and cease to exist whilst he carried on without her?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now he’s thinking about it, the Master does not know why the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. He’d been too wrapped up his momentary happiness, the rare peaceful bliss he’d found here with Thea - too absorbed in this fake life to pause and think outside of it even for a moment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This life here with her wasn’t sustainable. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least… not like this. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Pulling himself up off the floor, the Master eyes the chameleon circuit. It would be easy to do. His head was already filled with knowledge of ‘Oscar’s’ life, it’s not like he’d even have to create anything new… </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hearts pound as the idea rushes through his mind, thrums round his veins with adrenaline, his breath coming out fast and hearts quickening. The thought was frightening, he wouldn’t deny that - to turn himself human, </span>
  <em>
    <span>human</span>
  </em>
  <span> - he’d always hated them. Such primitive life forms with horrible senses of self and a superiority above others that they never earnt. But it’s not like he would </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d never know any different - never remember who he had been, know only this life here - with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Could he do it? </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could be happy, he knew that. </span>
  <em>
    <span>They</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be happy, live out the rest of their human lives together here with none of their past traumas haunting either of them. He could… - his hearts quicken further at the thought - with him also human they could have children, a family of their own - a real, proper family with </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was a time when the very idea would have made him want to hurl, but now, the thought was tentatively (alarmingly so) appealing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wouldn’t be the Master anymore… but would that be such a bad thing? Sure, he’d had some fun here and there, but as the Master he’d always been too twisted with rage and bitterness somewhere deep inside himself to ever truly feel any sense of contentment or joy. What they’d done to him, the way his head had been messed with had left scars that would never heal - and now, what he knew about </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> cut him deeper still. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They would finally be equals this way. The Doctor and the Master. Just two insignificant people in this huge universe, finding what happiness they could together. Just Thea and Oscar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He steps back from the machine, taking a deep breath. Now was not the time for such life affirming decisions - he had to get back to the hospital, to Thea - she still wasn’t anywhere near recovered, and should anything go wrong (he trembles at the very thought) the Master needed - well, to be himself so that he had a chance of saving her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He finds her sonic stashed under the console, and pockets it - wouldn’t hurt to do a discreet scan of her injuries after all - then with one last, lingering look at the circuit, the Master shuts down the controls and leaves the tardis for now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea is awake when he walks into the hospital ward, and musters up a smile for him as he crosses the room to her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You look a little better sweetheart,” he says with real relief, and Thea nods. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I feel less exhausted than I did earlier.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leans in to kiss her gently, pressing a brightly coloured bunch of flowers into her hands when he draws back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tulips!” She smiles, lifting them to her nose and sniffing. “Are these from the garden?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I thought you might like to see them. I’m not sure whether they’ll still be in bloom by the time they let you come home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea’s brow furrows. “Do you think they’ll keep me that long?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The doctor said two weeks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She huffs, closing her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” the Master murmurs, fully aware how much no version of her had ever liked to be kept still. He takes her hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. “But I’ll be here every day.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about work?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mr Hughes has given me the week off. He and his wife are both terribly worried about you.” The Master knew his boss felt somewhat responsible for what had happened - he hadn’t been able to apologise enough for letting slip about the murder and upsetting his wife so. He could have reassured him that he didn’t hold him to blame, but for now the older man’s guilt worked in his favour, so he hadn’t said much in response, simply quietly thanked him for the time off. Besides - if the imbecile had kept quiet, none of this would have happened. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How are you feeling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sore,” she admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shall I call for the nurse? When did you last have any pain medication-“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she interrupts quickly. “Sit.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to ask you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A bit hesitant, the Master sits in the chair beside her bed, setting down the bag of her things. “Alright,” he says, and reaches her for hand. “What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The accident…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes?” He presses when she trails off with a frown. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s all - kind of fuzzy but… something’s stuck in my head and I can’t get it out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When it happened, I heard your voice.” Her hazel eyes lock onto his. “I heard you shout ‘doctor’.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master inhales sharply in surprise. He hadn’t realised he had done that, but he doesn’t doubt her mind is not playing tricks on her. He clears his throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did?” He says, to buy some thinking time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.” Thea tilts her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master clears his throat yet again, dropping his gaze to their linked hands as he rubs his thumb over her knuckles. “I was calling for a doctor, love,” he says carefully. “Shouting for help. You must have still been awake then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No,” she shakes her head. “This was right as the car hit me  - before even, I think, just a split second before - your voice is so clear in my head -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart you were in a very serious accident. It’s not a surprise things are a bit jumbled.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I rushed to you, the man driving got out of the car and I shouted at him to get help - fetch a doctor. That must be what you heard.” He risks a glance up, and sees the confusion on her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That… must be it,” she finally agrees, and the Master lets out a breath of relief. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Try not to think too much about it, hm? You just need to focus on getting better now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a pause, Thea nods, and the Master musters up a smile for her, lifting her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There is a strange feeling in his belly, that remains even after she has started to chatter on about the awful dinner they’d fed her, and the sweet young nurse she’d made friends with. He realises after not too many minutes when he still can’t concentrate on what she’s saying, that it’s guilt for lying to her. It was odd, the Master had spent his whole life lying to get what he wanted, and never thought twice about it. Had lied to the Doctor a thousand times over - it was a habit, almost. The lies tumbled freely from his lips whenever they were needed, but were not forgotten so easily these days. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hates it, he decides there in that moment. Hates deceiving her, tricking her, being ingenuine with her. That was rich, he knows, when his whole life here with her was one huge lie. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it didn’t have to be forever. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And in that hospital with her hand in his as she rambles on about the machine next to her bed that changed the tones of its beeps every third minute, the Master comes to his decision. He didn’t want this anymore - these lies. He wanted this life with her for </span>
  <em>
    <span>real</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He wanted </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> for real, and once she was better, and home and things were back to normal, he would do it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d say goodbye to the Master forever, and become nothing but the husband Thea deserved, and the man who loved her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“That’s it, easy does it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O’s voice is warm in her ear, and his arm strong around her as he helps her into the house. Thea moves slowly, trying not to wince with every step, one hand pressed to her side where she’s tightly bandaged beneath her clothes, and the other gripping onto her husband’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a huff of relief when she makes it to the sofa, collapsing down and panting a little from the exertion, watching as O lifts her legs up to rest on it too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that alright? Do you want some more cushions - a blanket?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she says. “Cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>O chuckles and drops a kiss to the top of her head before disappearing off into the kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he returns he presses a steaming mug into her hands and settles a plate of biscuits in her lap, and Thea’s face lights up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been shopping,” she comments, stuffing one in her mouth gratefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” O replies, carefully lifting her legs so he can sit down beside her, resting them in his lap. “Got you some of that chocolate you like too. And some things in for dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how I’m gonna manage to cook,” she muses with a frown, “can barely stand up…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not doing any cooking - I don’t want you doing anything until you’re all healed up. You just need to rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea blinks at him. “But - how will you manage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll manage,” he tells her firmly. “Besides - you've only got one hand in use.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she sighs. She’s fed up of the cast on her left hand and forearm already, but is relieved to be out of that hospital bed and back home at least. Still, her movements would be very restricted for the next several weeks. She’s lucky she has O to look after her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you tired?” He asks, head tilted and Thea quirks an eyebrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why, do I look tired?” She teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone would after what you’ve been through.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am, but I’m glad to be home. And grateful I have such a wonderful husband to take care of me,” she smiles softly at him, and the Master strokes his fingertips over her shin where her feet are resting in his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you’re alright. You… you really scared me,” he admits, and Thea appreciates the honesty in his words; she knows her husband does not like to admit vulnerability - she must have truly given him a fright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she mumbles, “I’m sorry. She tilts her head and him and her eyes twinkle. “I’ll make it up to you when I’m better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He grins, “How are you gonna do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea shrugs, sipping innocently at her tea. “I’m sure I can think of something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner that night, O draws a hot bath for Thea - she’d complained endlessly to him about the quick sponge baths she’d had to take with the aid of the nurses in hospital and how she longed for a proper one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s too soon to unwrap her ribs, so O had only filled the tub enough to come up to her waist when she was sitting in it, so as not to get the bandages soaked through. It’s a chilly evening, and Thea starts to shiver where she sits naked in the tub as O helps her wash.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands pause on her arm. “You’re shaking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just cold,” she replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry - I’ll try to be quick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be warmer if you got in with me,” she comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There isn’t much room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head at him, “we could manage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to hurt you -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just take your clothes off and get in, O,” Thea sighs, and he grins at her before doing as she asked and quickly shedding his clothes. He helps her shuffle forward before stepping into the tub behind her and sitting down carefully, legs either side of Thea’s small form so she can lean back against him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” she murmurs, closing her eyes as she feels the warmth of his skin seeping into hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea,” he says softly after a long peaceful moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you… had the chance to do something that would make you happy but you knew it was wrong… would you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She is silent a moment. “Would it hurt anyone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Quite the opposite, actually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then… why is it wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a sigh, and Thea can hear him thinking. “Morally,” he finally comes out with, and Thea frowns before shifting in the tub, twisting to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s all this about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing,” he answers immediately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another sigh, and he carefully turns her back round, maneuvering her to settle against his torso, his arms around her. She feels his nose in her hair, the warmth of his breath as he breathes her in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it. Just… something to do with work.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Work? Is something wrong?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it’s nothing.” She feels him press a kiss to her hair. “Forget I mentioned it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea doesn’t press, but she’s curious now. She hopes he isn’t going to do anything that could get him into trouble. She makes a mental note to interrogate him about it at some point, maybe when she had more energy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” he says, “how are we going to do your hair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm, not sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think you can shuffle round and lean forward so I can wash it that way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll try.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His wife is exhausted by the time she’s washed and dressed for bed, and is asleep almost as soon as he’s tucked her up beneath the covers. She had groaned her way through a lot of the ordeal, and the Master hated to see her in pain. This intense empathy he felt for her was still relatively new, and it made his insides feel weird and uncomfortable to feel pain due to someone else being in pain. He didn’t like it one bit. He wanted her to stop hurting - he couldn’t do quite that, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>make it a little better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leaving her asleep, the Master leaves the house and walks briskly through the darkened streets, letting himself into her Tardis quietly when he gets there. The Tardis is surprisingly helpful when he requests direction to her med bay, and produces a tissue regenerator without much persuasion. He pockets it, gathering some other things he thinks might be helpful - some strong painkillers, cream that would soothe and heal the bruises on her skin from the inside, and some basic vitamins designed to boost the rate of healing. All things that wouldn’t be available to humans for at least a century - but he may as well utilise the tools he had whilst he could access them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea is thankfully still asleep when he gets back, and the Master sets about doing what he can. He can’t heal her too much - she and the doctors at her next hospital appointment might notice something was amiss if her broken bones were suddenly all mended overnight, but he does ensure her ribs are knitting together straight, and helps start the healing process enough to hopefully lessen her pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wakes up when he’s rubbing healing cream into the nasty black bruising down her side and hip, stirring beneath his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O?” She mumbles sleepily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just some salve for your bruises love,” he tells her, “go back to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t, instead watches him quietly through hooded hazel eyes as he works his way down her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it hurt?” He asks when he glances up and finds her gaze on him. She shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Well it does, but not because you’re touching it. He nods, pleased his gentle touch isn’t causing her any further discomfort. The worst of the bruising would be gone by morning with this cream, and she’d probably think it odd but he’d rather that than her being in needless pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There you go,” he says softly when he is done, tugging her nightdress back down and lifting the covers up over her. He tidies his things away, feeling Thea’s gaze on him all the while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” He says when he glances over and catches her watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bites her lip. “Can we talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just… something. Finish up first, I’ll wait until you come to bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little flutter in his stomach at the ominous edge to those words, the Master nods and hastily stuffs everything in a bag and sticks it in the cupboard, reminding himself to take some of it back to the Tardis tomorrow, before hastily changing into nightclothes and sliding into bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lays on the opposite side to her bad ribs and arm, facing him in their bed, hand under her head, and O shifts onto his side and props himself up to look back at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you want to talk about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea chews on her lip again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a lot of time to think in hospital,” she begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?” He answers, careful to keep his tone neutral, although the gravity in her voice sets him a little on edge. Where did these sudden nerves come from? What if - what if she’d remembered? She didn’t seem angry though -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wanted to wait until we were alone - properly I mean - to talk to you about this, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” she looked oddly nervous, and the Master’s own nerves ramp up in response. “It made me realise - the accident - how short life is. How short it can be, how every day could be your last and you don’t even know it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to hear her talk of such things; the thought had been a near constant demon of his these past two weeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it love?” He interrupts quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea looks him in the eyes, and takes a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks. “Oh.” That had… not been what he was expecting to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea plunges hastily on. “I know we said last year that we’d discuss it again when we both worked out how we felt… well, I know now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” he comments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” she bites her lip, the nervousness returning to her expression, “what do you think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did he think? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Realising last year that Thea would begin to think something was wrong with her when she continued not to fall pregnant despite having (fairly frequent) sex with him, the Master had planted a tiny piece of false information in her head that made her believe she had an IUD. It was possibly a touch early in human history to actually have her get one, although he believed they did exist, just weren’t widely used. But that was no matter; society was sexually repressed enough in these times to make it unlikely for Thea to ever mention that she and her husband were using contraception to anybody else - and if she did he doubted they would question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did he think?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the Master, of course it wasn’t possible for him to ever give her children, and agreeing to do so would only distress her when she failed to fall pregnant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But… he wasn’t going to be the Master anymore, was he? He’d be human, like Thea. And he won’t deny the thought hadn’t already crossed his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sudden and surprising surge of excitement fills his insides, and he has to suppress a grin as he reaches for her hand, lacing their fingers together and resting their joined hands on the pillow between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… that you would make a wonderful mother,” he carefully repeats the words he had spoken to her last year. This time he </span>
  <em>
    <span>means them. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea’s face begins to light up - tentatively - “So - you’re saying…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying,” He has to think a moment how to phrase it - the Master had never been all that great at speaking about his feelings. He clears his throat. “That I want to make you happy, and if you think children would do that… then I want that too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea’s brow furrows. “But - what do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do I want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master can’t remember the last time somebody asked him that. Maybe it was Theta, when she and he were little boys, and his best friend in the whole world always insisted they play a game they both wanted to rather than either of them being forced to compromise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So much had changed and yet… so little too, when all was stripped back. Perhaps they had always been destined to end up here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think… I want to have a family with you,” he says, the words slow and careful; they are not ones he ever expected to utter in this particular arrangement, but as they fall from his lips, he feels even more assured of their truth. “I do. In fact… I would love nothing more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her whole face breaks into a brilliant smile. “Then yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Barely able to suppress his own smile at the delight on her face, the Master nods, and then Thea lets out a squeak of joy as she lunges forward to kiss him - the moment only spoiled when she hisses immediately at the sudden movement and clutches a hand to her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Careful!” He chastises, leaning in to her instead so he can press a fierce kiss to her lips. He looks into her eyes when he moves back, hands cupping her face, and she’s still smiling, despite her breath coming out quick and the furrow of pain on her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just maybe let’s focus on getting you healed up first yeah?” He says lightly. “I’ll get you the painkillers the hospital gave us. Back in a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles again as he presses another kiss to her lips and clambers out of bed to retrieve them. He’d already tossed the useless things in the bin and replaced the pills in the bottle with the proper painkillers he’d retrieved from the Tardis, and the Master grabs them and a glass of water and takes them in to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The medication makes her sleepy again quickly, and Thea beckons him back into bed with her, slipping her hand into his and leaning her head against his shoulder when he’s settled down. He suspects she wants him to hold her (Thea had turned out to be surprisingly tactile once they’d gotten past the rocky start - the Master has to wonder whether her former self felt starved for touch with her long-standing habit of keeping everyone at arms length in recent centuries), but this is the best they can manage with her injuries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“O?” Her voice is drowsy and she sounds on the way to sleep already.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What shall we call it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, love?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our child.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master feels himself inhale sharply at the phrase, and there’s more of that excitement - so foreign and unexpected bubbling inside his stomach. He squeezes her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not even pregnant yet Thea,” he replies with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she mumbles, “M’just thinking. Always liked the name Rose for a girl, dunno why, just feels… significant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master freezes a bit. He knows that name. Although they’d never met, the Master was well aware of a human girl named Rose and her importance in the Doctor’s life. He’s fairly sure he heard something about another version of her living out their life in an alternate universe with her somewhere. He begins to mentally scoff at the thought when he realises with quite a jolt that what he is doing here, right now, is not entirely dissimilar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know whether he should be concerned that the name had leaked through her consciousness... it was probably nothing. Perhaps Thea just liked it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a great yawn and the Master strokes his thumb over the back of her hand. “Go to sleep sweetheart. We can talk about all this when you’re better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” she agrees drowsily. “Suppose we’ve got our whole lives to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master feels his hearts quicken, Thea unaware of the significance of her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling?” She says, and he realises he hasn’t replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he rasps quickly, and squeezes her hand again. “I suppose we have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master goes to sleep with warmth in his hearts and a smile on his lips that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His contentment is short-lived; he is awoken with a start just a couple of hours later to Thea thrashing next to him and waking herself up with a scream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea!” He gasps, grabbing for her shoulders and pressing her to the bed as she cries out in pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” She yells, voice breaking as she tries to shake him from her, “no, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span> -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea it’s just me! You need to keep still, your injuries -!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off, </span>
  <em>
    <span>get off!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She cries hoarsely, continuing to struggle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s me Thea!” He tries to reassure her frantically as wide eyes filled with fear and hate and panic dart about. “It’s O!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She yells at him, and startled, the Master releases her. She flails, scrambling away from him in a mess of twisted blankets, a hand clutched to her side and a sob catching in her throat until she sits as far as away from him in their bed as she can, her other hand clutching tight to the headboard with white knuckles as she stares at him. There’s fear in her dark eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha - Thea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember,” she whispers, and a tear slips down her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master’s chest tightens. “You… remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember why I ran away from you into the road,” another tear, “I remember what you did…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at her, a knot in his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Oh,” he finally replies quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master knew it had been a possibility that her memories of that night would come back as the swelling assumedly went down in her brain… but he had foolishly dared to hope the evening was forgotten for good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You killed that man,” she whispers, still crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows hard. Wishes he could tell her there’s blood on both their hands - and she had no right to look at him in such a way. But that was the Doctor, and the Master had left the Doctor behind a year ago; the woman who sat before him was innocent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was an accident,” he utters quickly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… took his </span>
  <em>
    <span>job…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -” He cuts off, stares at her. He doesn’t have an answer for that. His gaze drops to the bed between them. “Yes, I did,” he replies quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could you be so heartless? God, that poor man…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Poor man!?” He looks back up with a frown. “That man was nothing but a creep - I know what he was thinking about you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was friendly!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wanted you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a sharp pause. He can see the thoughts whirling around inside Thea’s head and realises very quickly that he’d better keep talking before they could spiral. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you - we got into a tussle that got out of hand that’s all - I killed him to protect you and I’d do it again,” he snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thea stares back at him. “Have you?” She finally whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Done it again? Have you killed anyone else?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goddamnit why can’t he lie!? Lies have always spilled from his lips as easily as breaths - why did it have to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>now </span>
  </em>
  <span>that the words decided to stick in his throat? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes a deep breath that shakes a little and speaks again, voice low. “Oscar did you kill Mr Andrews?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I - wh - what?” He splutters. How in the hell had she -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The milkman! Mr Andrews who had that horrible accident and died - was it really an accident or did you murder him too!?” Her voice is rising and the Master is fast losing control of the situation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s preposterous,” he scoffs. “You’re being absurd -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what you used to say about him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not - not that - what you said before. You never stopped banging on about how you thought he wanted me  - that’s exactly what you used to say. And now he’s dead too…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea,” He begins to scoff, “You can’t possibly think -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me the truth!” She yells, voice cracking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks her in the eyes, his own wide. “I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the words fail him, Thea cups a hand to her mouth, breathing deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god,” she whispers, “Two… two people dead because of me…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She holds up a hand, silencing him, looking down as she breathes heavily, clearly trying to get her thoughts in order. The Master watches her, helpless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The are so many things he could do - scramble over and press his hands to her head and wipe the knowledge from her mind - seize her by the neck and tell her he’d kill her too unless she kept quiet about it - lie even, tell her she’d imagined the whole thing…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master does nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a long moment before she drops her hand and looks back up at him, her hazel eyes full of fear and mistrust, and it breaks the Master’s fragile hearts a little bit, the words she speaks wrapping around them and squeezing tight until there is physical pain in his chest;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>My google search history this week: birth control in the 1950s</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Master stares at Thea’s motionless form, still panting hard, his hearts racing as he tries to calm himself. </p><p>He knows he shouldn’t have done it - but everything was happening so <em> fast </em> , accusations were spilling from her mouth as she spiralled and he just needed to <em> think. </em></p><p>He takes a deep breath that shakes a little, then he leans over and carefully lifts her where she’s fallen slumped over the pillows, maneuvering her down and into bed properly, mindful of her injuries, and covering her with the duvet. </p><p>He brushes blonde hair back from her face, traces his fingertips over the damp tear-tracks on her cheeks, and whispers a quiet apology to her. </p><p>
  <em> What was he going to do? </em>
</p><p>He should take the memory from her mind - he knows that would be the most logical solution. He hovers his fingertips over her temple, looking down into her sleeping face. What other option was there? Knock her out every time she began questioning? That was hardly practical, and the Master felt awful for having done so. He hadn’t hurt her - it was just a tap of her head - old timelord trick he’d seldom used - easy on non-telepathic lifeforms like humans. Still, he felt… dirty. Pulling her strings like a puppet - it wasn’t something that brought him sadistic amusement anymore like it had to begin with, it just made him feel filthy. </p><p>It wasn’t fair - him holding all this power over her - he didn’t like it. He didn’t <em> want it </em> anymore. Something surges in the Master’s chest and he has half a mind to race out the house and down the streets to the Tardis, use the circuit on himself and turn himself into a human right this instant; become like her. Ignorance would be bliss. </p><p>But that wouldn’t solve anything - Thea would still remember that he had murdered two men she’d known, and the Master was better equipped to deal with the situation than a clueless human. </p><p>Right. He gives himself a jolt, shakes his hand out. “I’m sorry Thea, I just have to take this memory. Just… just this little one… I don’t know how to fix this otherwise. You’ll be happier if you never knew. And I won’t need to know either, and then I can be like you and - and we can be happy. Neither of us will ever know any different. A fresh start - isn’t it about time we had one, you and me? And we’ll be so… so happy…”</p><p>After a pause he presses his fingertips to her temple, dives inside her mind and - </p><p>Oh. She’s dreaming. Right, of course - she’s asleep, quite possible she’s dreaming. Wait, what was she - </p><p><em> Ireland </em>. He remembers this sequence - he’d watched it several times when he first stumbled across it in the matrix, trying to decipher such an out of place memory amongst a jumble of others. </p><p>“<em> No,” </em>She’s saying - it’s supposed to be Brendan, but Thea had no memories of Brendan, and is consequently herself, strapped to a chair in a dingy little office at the back of a garda station. </p><p>“<em> No please, don’t take it away!” </em></p><p><em> “We thank you for your services, but we’re sorry you won’t remember them.” </em> The other figure in her dream says.</p><p>“<em>Wait - you can’t just erase my life! It’s </em><b><em>my life!”</em></b> Thea is thrashing now as one of the figures advances on her, straps a contraption to her head - and oh god, it’s him, Oscar - in her dream the guard is<em> him</em>. “<em>No!”</em> She screams, the other presses the button, the room goes white and the Master flies backwards out of her head and off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor of their bedroom, panting hard. </p><p>She’s jerking in her sleep, head tossing from side to side, and he scrambles up, presses his hand to her head and forces soothing thoughts in between the fragments of her mind, letting calming waves wash over her brain, dissolving the dream from her consciousness. Her brow unknits and she stills, peace crossing her features once more. </p><p>The Master kneels on the floor by her bedside, taking in the sweat on her brow and feeling a little of his own trickle down the back of his neck. His hearts are aching and beating hard, and he feels sick to his stomach, like he might throw up. </p><p>Elbows on the bed, he drops his head into his hands. </p><p>“<em> Fuck </em>.”</p><p>--</p><p>Thea is just stirring when her husband slips into their room the next morning. She groans, brow furrowing as she stretches before she blinks her eyes sleepily open and they settle on O, crossing the room to her. She watches as he sets a tray down on the foot of her bed, with a plate of bacon and eggs, a mug of steaming tea and a single yellow tulip from the garden in a little vase. The yellow ones were her favourite. </p><p>She stares at it a moment. Her head hurts and her brain feels fuzzy - she thinks she had bad dreams although she can’t recall them now. She does recall what happened before she fell asleep though, the knowledge sitting heavy in her chest like a lump of lead shoved between her lungs; she suspects the restless night is to blame on it.</p><p>After a moment, her gaze flicks over to Oscar. </p><p>He rubs at the back of his head.</p><p>“Uhh… want me to help you sit up so you can eat?”</p><p>Thea continues to stare for a moment before silently, she nods. She doesn’t speak as he helps her up, shoving a few pillows in behind her to prop her up in bed before lifting the tray and settling it over her lap. </p><p>Only when he’s straightened and hovers by her bedside does she finally open her mouth.</p><p>“Do you think this makes everything okay?” Her voice is quiet and scratchy from sleep, and her throat hurts like she’s been screaming. </p><p>“I -“ O swallows, shifts on his feet. “No. I just thought you’d like breakfast.”</p><p>After another tense pause, he clears his throat. “I’ll uh. Leave you to eat. I’ll be back in a bit to help you dress. Um. If you need help.” He gestures to the tray. “I put your painkillers there. And some vitamins.”</p><p>Breaking the gaze, Thea nods, and picks up her knife and fork as O quietly leaves the room. </p><p>She feels too sick to eat, but the space gives her a moment to think, at least, whilst she picks at her bacon. </p><p>She can’t recall how they’d left the argument the night before… she thinks she must have passed out from exhaustion - the medication was playing havoc with her energy levels. Not her mind though - that was clear as day, and how she wishes she could forget what she had learnt. </p><p>Thea had always known there was a terrible darkness inside her husband, but knowing that he’d actually committed murder - not once but twice (that she knew of - were there others, too?) and worse, seemed to hold no regret for his actions was another level. </p><p>How could she ever trust him again now? Thea didn’t even know him. The man she thought she was married to - the man she loved, didn’t murder other men then just carry on with his life like nothing had happened. He didn’t… even seem to believe it had been wrong. </p><p>Sometimes, when things were bad between them, when O lost his temper and became irrational, Thea feared somewhere deep in a dark corner of her mind that she never acknowledged that someday he would truly hurt her, and only now does the true gravity of that situation sink in. </p><p>Thea would almost welcome death right now if it meant the other two men who had died because Oscar willed it - because of <em> her </em> - got to live. </p><p>She throws down her knife and fork, feeling sick, and brushes a tear from her cheek. </p><p>She knew she couldn’t truly blame herself for their deaths, despite O claiming to have done at least one in her name and the other certainly due to jealousy, but Thea knew now, what O was capable of. Knew how deepy the darkness inside him ran, and because of that, it was her responsibility to make sure it never happened again. She couldn’t bring back the lives of the men he’d killed, but Thea could make damn sure he never murdered anybody else. </p><p>Her ribs ache, and she throws down the painkillers and vitamins, washing them down with a few gulps of tea, and then she shouts out her husband’s name. </p><p>“What is it? Are you alright?” He’s panting a little when he bursts into their room. </p><p>“I want to get up,” she says shortly. “I need help.”</p><p>“Right,” he looks a little surprised, then gives himself a shake. “Of course love. Here.”</p><p>—</p><p>Dressed and downstairs, O helps her over to the sofa, sitting her down on it. He hovers a moment, propping her up with cushions and lifting her legs up and she lets him fuss a little before she bats him away, shooing him. She hates that she’s reliant on him at all, but broken ribs seemed to make even the simplest of movements painful, and Thea knew she needed to be careful to ensure she healed properly.</p><p>“Do you need anything?” He asks her, “Tea?”</p><p>“A pen and paper.”</p><p>“... Okay?” He looks at her a little strangely but gets them for her, holding them out. </p><p>“It’s for you.”</p><p>“What?</p><p>She nods at the armchair across from the sofa. “Sit.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Thea folds her arms. “I’ve come to understand that you have no sense of a moral compass. I’m going to teach you.”</p><p>“Teach… me…?”</p><p>“Yes. Since you don’t seem to understand what’s right and what’s wrong you’re going to learn.”</p><p>There’s a pause. “Thea -“</p><p>“Sit.”</p><p>“Sweetheart, this isn’t -“</p><p>“<em> Sit, </em>Oscar,” she snaps, “or so help me I will telephone the police and tell them what you did to those poor men right now!”</p><p>Her husband sits. </p><p>“Okay,” she says, and takes a deep breath. The knowledge of what he’s done still aches inside her, and she could cry to think of those lives, taken by her husband’s hand. Could cry to think of him doing it. She forces herself to focus. “Let’s start with the basics. How do we tell what’s right and what’s wrong? Is it because right is what makes us feel better, or are there instances when that can be wrong? You might want to write this down.”</p><p>“I know the difference between right and wrong Thea,” he frowns.</p><p>“Evidently <em> not, </em> since you seem to think there’s nothing wrong with <em> murder!” </em></p><p>He closes his mouth again, averts his eyes.</p><p>Thea clears her throat, and starts again. “Say… I had an apple, but I wasn’t going to eat it. Would it be okay for you to take it?”</p><p>“You’re my wife, if there’s apples in the house they’re as much mine as yours.”</p><p>Thea tries not to growl under her breath. “Fine - somebody at work brings an apple in then, and mentions they’re not going to eat it.”</p><p>“Why would they bring an apple in if they weren’t going to eat it?”</p><p>“Oscar can you just <em> please -” </em>Her voice cracks on the word, and her husband seems to realise how close to the edge she is teetering because he quickly holds up a hand. </p><p>“Okay! Alright I’m sorry, I’ll listen. I’ll even write it down - right, wrong, see?” He scribbles quickly and holds up his pad of writing paper so she can see the two words and a line down the middle like columns. She nods and takes a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts. </p><p>“Okay,” she says, “Good. Let’s try this again, then.”</p><p>She runs through scenarios with him - basic things, like one might teach a child with no sense of right and wrong. He doesn’t seem to be that clueless, at least - certainly has a basic grasp of morals, and Thea doesn’t know whether that makes what he’s done better or worse. After a half hour or so, O stops writing and looks up, tilting his head at her with curiosity on his face. </p><p>“Why are you doing this? He asks quietly. </p><p>Thea looks down with a frown, fiddling with the cushion in her lap. “Because you’re my husband,” she says. “And I love you, but I can’t stay with a man who thinks killing is okay.”</p><p>There’s a sharp pause. “You want to leave me?”</p><p>“No,” she answers quickly, glancing up. “I don’t. I just… I need you to be better.”</p><p>“You want me to change,” he frowns. </p><p>“I want you to be a better man,” she counters. They stare at each other a moment, a deep furrow etched into Oscar’s brow, and she thinks he might lose his temper, holds her breath and braces herself - but after the moment has passed he averts his gaze and nods once. <br/>“Fine,” he mutters, “Teach me then.”</p><p>Thea lets out an exhale and manages to muster a small smile.</p><p>--</p><p>The Master sits across from his wife, trying to take in everything she says. His mind wanders, the irony of the situation not escaping him as he sits in that little sitting room and listens to her preach at him. </p><p>She was right, of course; a woman like her could never willingly want to stay with a man who murdered people for the fun of it; it went against everything she stood for - always had. If only she knew what she was really dealing with - the atrocities he’d committed… stabbing someone behind a restaurant seemed like an act of kindness in comparison to planetary genocide. </p><p>But that didn’t matter any more - it <em> wouldn’t </em> matter - that was the Master; Oscar had never done those things, and as Oscar, he could finally be the man Thea deserved, startled to find he truly <em> wanted </em>to change for her. </p><p>Could he though? Could he change? He’d be human, but he’d still be himself, wouldn’t he? And the Master had spent solong giving in to the darkness in his head he didn’t know how to stop listening to it now. He’d tried, once… for her - or him, as she was then. It hadn’t worked out. What makes him think it’d be any different now? </p><p>Perhaps he’d be different, without the traumas of his past inside him. But Thea wasn’t, was she? Thea was still fundamentally the same person, and she was still haunted by things the Doctor had endured, though she didn’t understand them. He could only imagine the nightmares he might be plagued with as Oscar, and not comprehending them… it could be worse. He could be dangerous. </p><p>“And that’s why it’s not - O?” Thea tapers off as the Master leans forward in his chair and puts his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.</p><p>“Are… you alright? Oscar?”</p><p>“Yes,” he says, pulling himself up. “A headache. I need some fresh air.”</p><p>“Oh,” she says, “okay. Sorry, I didn’t mean to - overload you or -“</p><p>“No it’s fine,” he says shortly. “You’ll be alright for an hour?”</p><p>She nods. “Of course. Go.”</p><p>He grabs his coat and practically runs out of the house and into the street, hastily pacing down the cobbled pavements whilst his head spins in turmoil. </p><p>The walk doesn’t help. He’d taken three laps of the block, walking past the alleyway he had the Tardis stashed down thrice, but had been unable to make himself gondown there each time. He could be human by now, he thinks as he paces back up his street towards his house. He could be Oscar, and all of this pain in his hearts and his head would be gone. </p><p>When he lets himself back in, the house is quiet. </p><p>“Thea?”</p><p>“In here,” comes her voice, and he throws his coat over the banister before walking towards her voice in the sitting room. He stops dead in the doorway. The room is turned inside out, like every drawer, every cupboard had been emptied frantically, their contents all over the floor. Cushions are scattered everywhere, books are off the shelf and his chair is turned over. Thea sits on the floor in the middle of the destruction, her dress fanned out around her and shoulders slumped, one arm wrapped around her middle, the other clutching tight to - </p><p><em> Oh </em>. </p><p>The Master’s mouth goes dry, and he stares at her as she flicks a button on the Doctor’s sonic which she grips in her hand. On, off. It lights up and whirrs each time. On. Off. On. Off. His blood rushes in his ears and he forces himself to calm and think rationally. </p><p>“Where did you find that?”</p><p>“Fell out your coat pocket when you threw it on,” she answers quietly without looking up. She flicks the switch again. On, whirr, off. On, off. </p><p>The Master strides across the room and rips it from her hand. </p><p>“That’s not a toy.”</p><p>“What is it then?” She looks up at him with accusation in her bloodshot eyes. </p><p>He swallows, and chooses not to answer her. “What happened here? It looks like we’ve been burgled.”</p><p>“We haven’t.”</p><p>“What happened?” He repeats. </p><p>“I was looking for something.”</p><p>“What?” She doesn’t answer, just eyes the sonic in his hand, and in a fit of frustration he hurls it against the opposite wall and leans down to seize her by the shoulders. “Looking for what!?”</p><p>She cries out and he releases her quickly, cursing. </p><p>“Shit - sorry I didn’t - you shouldn’t even have been moving, what were you <em> thinking!? </em> Come on, let me help you up -”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>“Thea -”</p><p>“Get off!”</p><p>He takes his hands off her arms where he’s trying to tug her to her feet and steps back, hands up in surrender. Her eyes dart about the room, a wildness to them that unsettles him. <em> Calm </em>, he tells himself over the pounding in his ears. Breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth. </p><p>The Master sinks to the floor to kneel in front of Thea, a few feet between them. </p><p>“Thea, what were you looking for?” He presses, voice calmer but stern. </p><p>She looks up at him, and her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know,” she whispers. </p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“What is that thing?” She says, instead of answering, eyes darting to where the sonic lays on the floor where he’d hurled it across the room. </p><p>“It’s nothing.”</p><p>“You’re lying - I can feel it.”</p><p>“I’m not - it’s nothing, just a gadget. You know I like fiddling with things in the shed, building electronics. It’s just a - tool.”</p><p>“What kind of tool?”</p><p>“I don’t know, it just - it just lights up.”</p><p>“No,” she shakes her head. “You’re still lying. It means something, I can feel it -”</p><p>“Stop saying that,” he growls, “What do you mean you can <em> feel it </em> - that’s stupid!”</p><p>“I’m not stupid!”</p><p>“Not you, I mean -” he cuts off, inhales deeply through his nose again, presses his fingertips to his brow. </p><p>“You’re lying to me,” Thea says quietly. “Too many things don’t make sense.”</p><p>Dropping his hands, the Master looks up. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“You. That thing. My life.”</p><p>“Your - life? What do you mean your life?”</p><p>Thea takes a deep breath. “I made friends with that nurse in hospital. Abigail. She’s a brilliant young woman, we talked for hours while she was doing her rounds every day, and a couple of evenings she stayed after her shift was over to chat some more.”</p><p>“Thea -” He shakes his head, bemused, “What are you -”</p><p>“Abigail’s getting married. She talked a lot about it - she’s excited. And there’s so much to think about - flowers, guests, her dress…” Thea’s stare locks onto his and pierces right through him. “And it made me realise I don’t remember our wedding at all.”</p><p>The Master stares back at her. “You - were in an accident,” he tries, “The doctors said your memory might be -”</p><p>“No. That’s not it. This is from before.”</p><p>“You don’t know that -”</p><p>“I know!” She snaps. “I know that I don’t remember things. I know that they happened - our wedding, I <em> know </em> I married you but I don’t remember the day at all, I don’t know what I wore, who came, where we had it - <em> why? </em> Why don’t I remember marrying you? You proposing - us courting, our first kiss, the first time we made love, I know… I know my life. I know who I am and what I’ve done but it’s like… it doesn’t <em> make sense </em>. Why didn’t I have any friends before last year? I love people - I’ve always made friends easily… but I can’t remember any of them either…”</p><p>His hearts are pounding so hard the Master can feel his body jolting with it, can feel his fingertips tingling as panic rushes through him and he struggles not to show it - frantically tries to think what to <em> do.  </em></p><p>“Remember me,” he blurts out, “Me and you, when we were children. We were friends. Do you remember that?”</p><p>She frowns, and nods slowly. “Yes. I do.”</p><p>“Remember how we used to play outside after school - steal into people’s gardens and pick fruit from trees - then you’d take off running and make me chase after you,” he reaches forward tentatively for her hand, trying to ground her with his words. They were real memories - of her and him, growing up on gallifrey together, even if as Thea she saw them here. They were real. “I’d always catch you.”</p><p>A tiny smile quirks at her lips. “I let you win.”</p><p>“No you didn’t.” he smiles tentatively back. “See? Your memories are fine.”</p><p>The smile drops from her face and she pulls her hand away. “They’re not fine.” She glares at him with accusation in her eyes. “All I can remember is <em> you </em>.”</p><p>He stares at her. “What are you saying?”</p><p>Her eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know,” she whispers, and puts her head in her hands, curling her fingers in her hair and gripping so hard her knuckles turn white. “Why doesn’t it make sense?” She whimpers, “Why does everything feel wrong?”</p><p>Thea sits there, huddled on the floor, rocking back and forth as she cries quietly, and the Master feels both his ancient hearts break open. </p><p>She isn’t happy, is she? He thought… he thought he could make her happy. He thought <em> this </em> would make her happy - this life, being this person, with him - a fresh start for both of them. But it wasn’t, was it? It wasn’t real. And Thea knew it, somewhere deep down inside herself. She knew she wasn’t the person she was supposed to be. And as the Master stares at her as she cries, he realises that if they stayed here, like this - if he turned himself human to live out this life with her - someday that knowledge would destroy her. <br/><br/>If he didn’t do it first. </p><p>Getting to his feet on shaking legs, the Master leaves her where she sits, walking out through the kitchen and into the garden, every step feeling like he was heading closer to his doom - but he knew he had no choice. He finds what he’s looking for in the shed easily - he hadn’t touched it since the day he had stashed it up on the shelf at the back, and the toolbox is covered in a thick layer of dust when he takes it down. He brings it outside and smashes it open with a sledge hammer, his rage enough strength to break the metal apart, and reaches inside for his prize. </p><p>Thea hasn’t moved from her position huddled on the floor, and the Master kneels down in front of her again, and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. </p><p>“Thea,” he says quietly, “I need to show you something.”</p><p>She slowly lifts her head, eyes rimmed red and hair a mess where she’d been tugging at it with her hands. </p><p>“What?” She rasps. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>He shakes his head quickly and sniffs, rubbing a hand across his damp eyes before holding out the golden pocket watched etched with gallifreyan symbols to her, and pressing it into her hands. </p><p>“Your… father’s watch?” She turns it over in her hands, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.”</p><p>“It’s not.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>He clambers to his feet and crosses the room for her sonic. Not broken from where he threw it, thankfully. Kneeling back down in front of her, he gives that to her as well. She stares up at him in confusion. </p><p>“I welded it shut,” he explains, “But that should break it.”</p><p>“Why did you… weld a watch shut? And how would this break it? It’s not even sharp...”</p><p>“Just open it and you’ll understand.”</p><p>“What? O, you’re not making any sense -”</p><p>“I know. But I will. It will  - everything will, when you open this.” He sniffs again, his vision blurred.</p><p>“O -”</p><p>“Please, Thea. Just… point this at it, and press the button.”</p><p>“But I -”</p><p>He grasps her by the sides of her face, pressing a fierce kiss to her lips, feeling the dampness of both their tears against their mouths, and pulls back to breathe shakily against her parted lips.</p><p>“Just do it,” he whispers, and after a pause, Thea nods, and he releases her, sits back on his heels and watches as she looks down and aims the sonic at the watch, then presses the button. </p><p>--</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I don't usually get affected emotionally by the things I write but this one got me 😅 I think this part's just been such a long time coming... can't wait to hear all your thoughts!! Your comments bring me so much happiness. </p><p>Nobody move, it's not over yet...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The light from the watch fades, absorbed into the woman in front of him, and the Master stares, eyes wide. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The open pocket watch drops from Thea’s hand to the floor between them, and the Doctor looks up at him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master stops breathing. They stare at one another for a long moment, him terrified, her… unreadable, her hazel eyes full of a mix of disbelief and shock - hurt, pain… anger. Sadness. He still hasn’t dared to draw a breath, and he braces himself, fully prepared for the full force of her wrath - prepared for her to scream and lash out - hit him if she wanted to. He wouldn’t stop her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It doesn’t come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her eyes cloud over, and then she takes a deep breath, and all emotion is gone from within them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gets to her feet. He doesn’t know whether changing back into a timelord meant the injuries she’d sustained as Thea would be gone, but she shows no signs of pain if they aren’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns her back, and he can see the rise and fall of her small form as she breathes rapidly. Slowly, the Master climbs to his own feet. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“... Doctor?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t reply, not for another few minutes, and the Master doesn’t dare to move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is my Tardis here?” She finally asks quietly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It - yes. It is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods. “So you’ve had a way out of here all this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not all of it - I couldn’t find it for the first -“ he cuts off when she whirls to face him and he sees the hurt look she’s giving him, and clears his throat. “For the last seven months, yes,” he confirms quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Take me to her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now? I thought you might want to tal -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. Now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay,” he nods, “alright. It’s -“ he motions to the front door, and the Doctor just looks at him until he makes towards it and hears her follow. The Master opens the door for her and hovers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you need help? Your ribs -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.” She jostles his shoulder as she walks past him, and the Master hastily closes the front door and jogs to catch her up, motioning left at the end of the garden path. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tries to talk to her three more times on the short walk, but cannot get a reply out of her at all, and gives up after the third. When they finally reach the Tardis she strides forward, almost breaking into a run until she reaches the box and puts a hand on it. It clicks open whilst the Master is still fumbling for the key he has in his inside pocket, and he hastens to follow her inside before the door can close on him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stands at the console, hands braced on the edge and head bowed, her back to him. It’s a strange sight; to see her like this, dressed as Thea inside this ship. She looks out of place. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The judoon,” she finally speaks, “do you know if they -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gone. I’ve already searched. They couldn’t find any trace of you in the galaxy, pronounced you dead. You’re safe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right,” she says quietly, and nods. “Safe.” She turns to face him, brow furrowed. “And still you kept me here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I -“ he cuts off, no reply for that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because…” he swallows, the words sticking in his throat. Why were they so easy to say to Thea - he’d said them a hundred times to her - but they didn’t want to come out now he was faced with her true self. It wasn’t like they weren’t still true - not like it wasn’t the Doctor who he’d really loved all along.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He breaks the gaze, looking down. “I wanted to stay with you,” he says quietly. “This life we had… it was good. I wanted us to stay.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You wanted to keep me as your prisoner,” the Doctor says, “keep me brainwashed and clueless - thinking you had a right to me - to my life, my body - keeping me as your little </span>
  <em>
    <span>pet -“</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he cuts her off as she spits out the words, “that’s not - that wasn’t it. Maybe… maybe to start with, the way I handled it was wrong, but that’s not why I wanted to stay -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh really? What other reason could you possible want to keep me like that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I loved you!” He exclaims, the words finally bursting out, and the Doctor stares back at him. “I love you,” he corrects, “Thea - </span>
  <em>
    <span>you. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I wanted… I wanted to stay with you - I was going to turn myself human too, use the arch,” he motions to it and the Doctor turns to glance at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re lying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not lying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They stare at each other for a moment before the Doctor breaks the gaze, spins away, and fires up her console, bringing the ship to life. “Yes you are. I know you, and there’s no way this all wasn't just a sick game to you.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re wrong.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She jabs at controls, pulls on levers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor, you’re wrong,” he tries again, “I was going to do it, as soon as you were better - I was going to be Oscar for you, properly - I wanted us to be happy! Have a family, just like you wanted, I’d have given you everything you wanted -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not me,” she snaps, cutting him off. “Everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea </span>
  </em>
  <span>wanted. Not me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m dropping you off at your Tardis,” she says quietly, putting in coordinates.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But we - you’re leaving right now? Don’t you want to -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He swallows and the ship lurches, sending him staggering sideways, flinging a hand out to brace himself on a pillar. She always had been a rubbish pilot. It stills again and settles down with a rumble, and the Master pushes himself upright, swallowing hard. “You’re not leaving me in the fifties then?” He says, a little hope inside him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I don’t want you anywhere near my friends. I don’t trust you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our friends,” he corrects, and she doesn’t reply but he sees her grip so hard to a lever her knuckles turn white. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Leave,” she says quietly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master doesn’t move. “Can we just… talk a little first?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” he begs, voice desperate. “Thea -”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thea’s gone,” she snaps coldly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No - I know, I meant - it, it slipped out.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I just… please?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn’t reply to him for a long moment, just stands there, gripping tight to the edges of the control panel, before she slowly turns round and looks him in the eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her voice is quiet when she finally speaks, from her place leaning on the Tardis console, her eyes cold and face holding none of the recognition Thea had held for him; she looks at him like she is looking at a stranger. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never want to see you again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master’s eyes widen. “I -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turns away. “Now get off my ship.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wants to scream at her to listen to him, rush across the room and grab her by the shoulders, shake her, make her look at him - make her angry - </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Anything other than the cold detachment she was showing towards him right now. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But the Master had spent the last year ignoring everything the Doctor might have wanted… he owes this to her, at least. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and does as she asks. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His Tardis is outside just like she’d promised, where he had left it on a small empty planet on the edge of the galaxy before hopping aboard hers to help her run from the judoon all that time ago. It was only a year, but it felt like a lifetime. She’s clearly furious with him, and he wonders at her not just dumping him out somewhere in the deep past or something - somewhere he’d be trapped (or at least would take him a while to make his way back to civilisation and his own tardis)... it unnerved him. It felt like… she was washing her hands of him - giving him no reason to come after her, wanted nothing more to do with him, truly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turns as her Tardis fires up, and looks on as it fades from in front of him, and the Master drops to his knees, sitting on the rough ground, vision blurring as he watches her disappear and is left alone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s lost her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An hour ago, the Master had everything, an hour ago he had a </span>
  <em>
    <span>wife</span>
  </em>
  <span>, who loved him enough to try and help him ever after she’d found out some of his darkest deeds. He’d had Thea - the Doctor as his own, in that little house forever more, their whole lives laid out in front of them, promises of a simple future with her at his side. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Now she is gone, and he has nothing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hasn’t made dinner.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how she’s forgotten but she had, and now it’s ten to six and her husband would be home any moment and the dinner isn’t ready. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flies round the console, turning knobs and pressing buttons, trying to get the oven on - why wouldn’t it come on? And where was the pantry? What was she even going to </span>
  <em>
    <span>make</span>
  </em>
  <span> for dinner in ten minutes?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Arms wrap round her from behind, one about her waist, one round her neck, and she jumps, warm breath by her ear as he pulls her back against him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dinner’s going to be late, I’m sorry,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s alright,” the Master replies, turning his head to nuzzle into her neck, “I’ll just have you for dinner instead.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she’s on her hands and knees on the console room floor, body bare and shivering, and her cunt aches as he pounds into her, his hand tangled in her hair, pulling painfully, dragging her head back and exposing her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She likes it, and she hates that she likes it, hates that his name spills from her open mouth along with desperate mumbles of love. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it,” he says when he’s done as he slips out of her and stands behind her.</span>
  <em>
    <span> “Stay there on your knees where you belong, wife…”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor is sweating when she wakes up tangled in her bedsheets with a gasp, her hearts pounding hard and body trembling lightly. She realises after a moment that she’s groping around in the space next to her, and snatches her hand back, furious with herself for seeking out comfort from the very cause of her nightmares. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits up, drawing her knees up to her chest to drop her head to them and wrap her arms around them. The worst part is she’s hot and throbbing between her legs, and how she hates herself for wanting the person who had treated her that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Granted, her dream was a fabrication of real events, a mix in her head, and Oscar hadn’t behaved like that with Thea for a long time but… he had still made her feel that way at one point, and Thea had still been wary of him to a certain degree all the way until the end. The residual memories of those feelings still reside inside the Doctor’s mind, snuck into darkened corners to emerge during her dreams. She shivers, wrapping her arms tighter around her legs. She bet the Master had </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved it</span>
  </em>
  <span>, keeping her scared of him. Bets he’d gotten off on the sick thrill endlessly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ignoring the ache between her legs, the Doctor drags herself out of bed and into a shower, standing under the spray until she feels clean again then dressing herself and padding down to the console room. She can’t sit still in here, alone with her thoughts any longer, and with determination, she sets the coordinates for earth, twenty-first century, and heads out to find the friends she had last seen on gallifrey a year ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn’t tell her friends what happened, doesn’t mention the judoon, the chameleon arch, the year with the Master living mind-wiped as his wife… none of it. They quiz her about gallifrey and she gives a short, snappish answer that implies it and the Master are gone, destroyed by Ko Sharmus whilst she’d escaped on a tardis and that’s the end of it. They assume she’d come straight from there to pick them up and she lets them. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes them to planet after planet, looking for trouble, seeking adrenalin, feeling like herself only when she’s running full pelt with explosions going off behind her, sonic out and the sound of her friends’ footsteps pounding behind her. She’s probably too reckless with them (and herself), but she can’t think about things that way, at least gets some respite from the turmoil inside her mind. It always returns when she’s alone though. Inevitably, her friends need to rest sometimes, and the Doctor is left alone with thoughts of Oscar and being another woman in a simpler time… sometimes they are good thoughts - more often than not if she dared to admit it to herself, but the good memories are laced with hurt and betrayal like poison in sweet wine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She never cries. Thea would have cried, she thinks on more than one occasion. Perhaps it would have helped, too, but tears never come for the Doctor, only coldness that slides through her veins like ice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Doctor look at these!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yaz’s voice jolts her out of her thoughts as they wander through a marketplace in the forty-fifth century, somewhere near the edge of the galaxy. She turns to see Yaz picking up a scarf that shimmers in the light like it was made of diamonds, but slides through the girl’s hands like oil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah,” Ryan comments. “That’s sick!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah, jisper cloth,” the Doctor says, stepping up beside her to the stall. “Originates from the planet kafar. It has properties of both a liquid and a solid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?” Yaz stares at it in wonder. “Wow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah yes,” says the stall seller, appearing in front of them, “that one would look especially dazzling on such a pretty complexion as your own,” he flatters Yaz, and the Doctor rolls her eyes. He flicks his gaze over to her and he smiles, then ducks down behind his stall. “And for you, beautiful lady, perhaps something such as this…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The stall-seller lifts up a dress, and the Doctor’s hearts stutter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s not from earth, but the cut and shape of it is identical to the style popular in the 1950s. The type of dresses Thea wore. It’s made of a similar shimmering material, a deep blue in colour that shimmers rainbows in the light, and the Doctor finds herself backing away, shaking her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Doctor?” She can hear Yaz’s voice, full of concern, and knows she must look alarmed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think so,” she tells the seller, and spins on her heel to hurry away. She can vaguely hear Graham apologising to him (“Sorry about that mate, she’s not really the dress type...”) but the blood is rushing in her ears, and the Doctor feels like she can’t catch her breath. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry gang,” she tells her friends when they’ve caught up to her back at the Tardis. “Just feeling a little peaky all of a sudden. Perhaps I better drop you all home in case it’s something catching.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look like they don’t believe her, but they don’t question. They’d learnt not to question, she had noticed. Too tired of getting no answers from her, she expects. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Time passes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d always been able to feel it acutely; the passing of time, but now it slips through her fingers like water until six months have gone by since she’d left Thea behind and it still feels like yesterday. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still dreams of her every night. Dreams of </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The worst part of it all is that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>misses him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Despite what he’d done - despite how horrifically he’d treated her, how he’d messed with her mind, essentially forced her into being what he willed her… but Thea and O had had a good life, a lot of the time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor would never have believed that she and the Master could cohabitate peacefully but they had. Of course, they had plenty of spats, mostly when the Master lost his temper as he was still wont to do. As Thea, she had learnt to manage his moods and deal with his anger calmly rather than letting her own rise to meet it, and he’d been getting better. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Much </span>
  </em>
  <span>better. Although now the Doctor wonders if that was all just part of the act. If he wasn’t just pretending - letting her think she had him under control. She did not know what his end goal had been as Oscar… she wonders if perhaps he’d never had one. Was simply enjoying the amusement of keeping her like that, seeing how long he could hold her prisoner in her own head, watching her love him - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span> - and laughing at it privately every day. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d claimed the love he felt for her was real, even as the Master, but the Doctor didn’t believe him. She had never trusted the Master, and he’d proven why she shouldn’t over and over again. Why should she believe that he’d been planning on turning himself human to live out that life with her - that was </span>
  <em>
    <span>insane</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And it was as far from anything the Master was likely to do as it could get. No. He was just tricking her, like he’d spent a whole year doing. Even if he did feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> for her… it wasn’t real. Thea wasn’t real - and the Master had only been infatuated (if indeed, he had) because Thea was obedient and calm and let him do what he willed with her. He’d made himself a toy, and had enjoyed playing with it too much to want to let her go. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But still, even though the Doctor tells herself all this, tells herself over and over that what the Master had done to her was abhorrent, and she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> furious with him for it… she finds herself longing for the contented moments she’d experienced as Thea Smith. Sitting by the fireplace with her head in O’s lap as he read softly to her. Strolling arm and arm with him to the park at the weekends, him listening to her chatter on indulgently. Laying beneath him in their bed, his lips pressed to her neck and her legs wrapped around him as he moved inside her, whispered that he loved her, and she’d believed it with everything inside her. Had </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> loved by him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She misses him. She hates herself but she misses Oscar… she misses her husband.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yaz you should’ve seen your face!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright!” Yaz says, shoving Ryan as they bundle in through the Tardis doors. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you see her gramps? She really thought it was real,” he laughs, waving the big fake bug he’d purchased in front of Yaz’s face again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Get off! It’s all slimy and gross!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know that is made from real parridos bugs,” the Doctor quips cheerfully, “they harvest the slime from their nests.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Eww!”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ryan throws it away from himself with a yelp. “Seriously!?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” she grins as Yaz laughs at him, “That’s why they cost so much, because it’s only...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor barely hears Yaz’s voice, nor does she hear Graham saying her name. Her eyes are locked onto the console - or more specifically, what’s on the console. She moves towards it, legs numb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, where did those come from?” She hears Ryan’s voice over the rushing in her ears after a few frozen moments, and blinks, ripping her gaze away from the console, where a small bunch of brightly coloured tulips sat, a tag with familiar handwriting scrawled on it around the stems. She snatches it off, pocketing the note discreetly as she pastes a bright smile on her face. She’s shaking, and she hopes it isn’t obvious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Must have been the Tardis,” she says airly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What, the Tardis gave you flowers?” Yaz looks at her strangely, peeks round behind her back at the bunch of tulips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep! She does that sometimes, don’t you dear?” The Doctor says brightly, turning from her friends and firing up the engines. The tulips sit on the control panel beside her, taunting her, and both the Doctor’s hearts ache.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I never heard of a ship giving someone flowers before,” Graham quips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, maybe it’s got a crush on you,” Ryan jests, and the Doctor forces a laugh that sounds false even to her own ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe. Right - Sheffield! You all wanted to pop home for a bit didn’t you? Here we go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor drops her friends home, waves them goodbye from the console with a forced smile, then when the doors close behind them, she sinks to the floor, the bunch of tulips gripped tightly in her hand, and finally, finally, she cries. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Next chapter is almost done so it will likely be another quick update :) Thank you so much for all your amazing comments, all twenty-odd chapters have built to these and I'm so excited to finally be writing this part! As you've probably guessed, we are drawing closer to an end but there is still at least two more chapters to go so don't worry yet, and everyone who has stuck with me throughout the whole fic - thank you so so much, I couldn't have gotten this far without you &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Doctor’s hands shake as she inputs the coordinates on the little card she’d found attached to the tulips, asking herself all the while why she’s doing it. When she lands and checks the screen for the location and date, she wants to cry again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You bastard,” she breathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She steps outside of the Tardis into the overgrown garden. It’s been six months here since Thea and O had left this little house, and just like the “marriage” they had had here, it has been left abandoned to wilt and rot, it’s decrepit state a stark visualisation of what had happened to the couple who used to reside here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s evening, dark already as the season creeps from autumn into winter, and there is a chill in the damp air that sends a shiver down the Doctor’s spine as she steps forward. The grass is knee high, and she glances over at the patch where she and O had planted her tulips, now overtaken by weeds. She remembers him pressing her down and making love to her in that flower patch - </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She shakes her head. It was never love. That was Thea’s thinking and the Doctor knows better. It wasn’t O, had never been, it was just the Master all along, fucking her. In more than just a literal sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing hard, she looks away from the flower patch and up towards the house. The windows have been boarded up, but the back door is open ajar and there is a light on inside, seeping out through the crack and the edges of the boarded windows. The Doctor takes a deep breath and heads up the overgrown garden path. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets herself into the house, the back door creaking loudly, and shuts it behind herself. The kitchen is empty but there’s evidence of it being recently used; a pan on the stove, cooking utensils in the sink and a warmth coming from the oven. Taking it all in, she treads carefully through the room and out into the little living/dining room next door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got to be kidding me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master sits at one end of their table (no - Thea and Oscar’s table), a candle in the middle and two plates of steaming food set out. He stands, moving round to pull out another chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please?” He says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor shakes her head, remaining where she is by the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… I cooked,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances at the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you have dinner with me?” He says, dark eyes wide and pleading. “Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns. “I told you I never wanted to see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he replies. “You still came.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I came to tell you never to break into my Tardis again. And that I don’t want </span>
  <em>
    <span>flowers,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she spits, and remembering the bunch of tulips still clutched tightly in her hand, she hurls them to the floor between them. “I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master stares back at her. “Aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A frown flickers across her face before she whirls on her heel. “I’m leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pauses, damn her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just-“ she hears the Master take a deep breath. “I just want to talk, that’s all. And I didn’t break into your Tardis - she let me in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Traitor, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks darkly. She’d be having words with her ship later. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So talk,” the Doctor grinds out with her back to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you sit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please? I made your favourite…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, the Doctor turns, scowling at the plates on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea’s favourite,” she corrects. “I don’t like chicken dumplings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he says, “that’s why they’re filled with tapher fruit. It was always your favourite when we were children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor opens her mouth but no reply comes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” the Master says again, and with a sigh, the Doctor finds herself crossing the room, and dropping into the chair he stands behind as he pushes it into the table for her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master moves back round to take a seat in the chair opposite her and she picks up one of the dumplings on the plate and breaks it open, giving half of it a tentative sniff. A rich sweet smell fills her nostrils, and her mouth waters. She takes a bite, the flavour bursting over her tongue, and tries not to moan in pleasure. It’s been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so long </span>
  </em>
  <span>since she’d tasted this particular fruit, and sensory memory threatens to throw her mind back in time so violently she almost sways in her chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you even get hold of tapher fruit?” She says instead, “I haven’t seen it in centuries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know a place,” he says airily. “Good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor drops the dumpling to her plate. “The pastry’s undercooked. And there’s too much sugar.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he says, apparently unaffected by her insults as he picks up his knife and fork and carefully begins cutting into one of his own. “Tastes good to me,” he says, then puts down his fork and reaches for the bottle of wine between them. “Drink?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor frowns. “What do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“To talk,” he says again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There is no us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea and Oscar then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no Thea and Oscar either. They didn’t exist, neither of them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The next words out of your mouth had better be an apology or I’m leaving right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he acquiesces. “Really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t believe you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I hurt you, and I’m sorry Doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You love hurting me. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>live </span>
  </em>
  <span>to hurt me - everything you do, every great evil plan of yours, that’s what it always comes down to isn’t it? Antagonising me, however much destruction that takes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was different,” he begins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How? How was what you did any different to the countless other ways you’ve tortured me over the centuries? If anything, this was </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She drops her gaze and her voice drops to a whisper. “It was the worst one of all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a stiff silence between them, and the Doctor is reminded sharply of another dinner; a year ago, the night after the Master had been so rough and forceful with Thea she had cried. She has a vivid memory of that night of the wedding in her head; of O pinning her to the wall at the party with anger in his eyes, and of him pinning her to their bed later, of the fear that had coursed round Thea’s form when he refused to heed her struggles and pleas to stop. He’d been repentant then, just like he is now; talking softly, giving her gifts and pulling her chair out at the dinner table…  Thea had let him talk her round. She’d forgiven him. The Doctor is not Thea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a fit of rage, she flies to her feet and hurls the whole plate of dinner across the room. The Master jumps, and they stare at each other, her form heaving as she glares at where he sits across from her. He’s lucky she hadn’t thrown it at his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not </span>
  <em>
    <span>her,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she says again, voice shaking with anger, “you can’t placate me with flowers and dinner and empty promises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he agrees quietly, “I know that…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then what do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want? </span>
  </em>
  <span>What’s the point of all this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at her, his dark eyes wide and sad and honest. It makes her chest ache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you,” he says quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did, I have. Every day - every hour, every </span>
  <em>
    <span>minute</span>
  </em>
  <span> has been agony without you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> she threatens, shaking her head as he leans forward across the small table, reaching for her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed my wife -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor snatches her hands back. “I’m not your fucking wife,” she spits, and whirls round, stumbling over the chair behind her but not pausing, racing towards the back door, getting away from him and the aching in her hearts the only thing on her mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches her up in the kitchen, grabbing her by the arm before she can make it out of the house and whirling her round, and she yelps, struggling against him as he pins her to the wall beside the back door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, I just want to talk to you,” he growls out - she can see his temper is rising, can see she’s frustrating him as she struggles but she’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she’s not standing for it. Wrenching an arm free, she hits him in the jaw with a closed fist, sending him staggering backwards into the counter behind him, hands clutched to his face and eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she says. She’s shaking with rage, her hand hurts and she hopes his face does too, “Not so fun when she fights back, is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master has the audacity to stare back at her through hurt eyes. “I never hit you. I know - I might have lost my temper with Thea a few times - alright, a lot of times but… I never laid a hand on her, not like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffs. “Hitting someone isn’t the only way of hurting them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master has the decency to look away. He drops his hand, stretching his jaw out, and the Doctor can see a red mark there already. Good. She hopes he bruises. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She should leave now - he’s not stopping her anymore. But she doesn’t, just stays where she is, watching him carefully. Perhaps she is too tired to move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know I hurt you,” he finally mumbles. “And for that I am sorry. That’s,” he waves a hand towards the dining room, “the point of all this - an apology. I just wanted the chance to apologise - and to talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor folds her arms. “So talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” The Master visibly takes a deep breath across from her. “I love you,” he begins, and the Doctor cannot help the scoff that escapes her. “Really? You’re going to laugh at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At the fact that you think I’d believe that, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not true. You don’t know what love is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. I love you, Doctor. Just like O loved Thea - you believed that, didn’t you? That was </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it was real -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, you thought you loved Thea - Thea was what you programmed your disgusting idea of an ideal woman to be. Thea was a robot. Thea didn’t exist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re wrong,” he insists stubbornly. “I lived with Thea for over a year. She was more you than robot. Thea was </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The circuit can change memories only - it can’t change who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a human,” she scoffs, “so yes, that’s exactly what it does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master throws up his hands, “changing your dna is not the same thing - haven’t you always said how much you love humans because of how alike they are inside to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, suddenly you love humans too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right, you know,” he continues, ignoring her, frustration on his face again, “They are. They’re just like us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What ‘us?’” She scoffs, advancing towards him with contempt in her eyes and spite on her tongue. “Forgotten what you discovered? We’re not the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> the same,” he growls, “I was made from -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes made from </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That’s all you are. I’m a completely different life form - my own entity. You’re just a mutation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s stalking towards her with a growl, rage swirling in dark eyes and the Doctor isn’t going to shrink away like Thea did if that’s what he’s thinking. His hand grasps her by the throat and he rushes forward with her, slamming her hard back into the wall by the door as she snarls in his face, her hands flying up to grasp his wrist as he pins her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What you looking for?” She rasps after a moment when they simply glare hard at each other, both panting, his face twitching with anger as his eyes search hers. “Fear? Miss seeing her cower in your grasp?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand loosens on her neck just a touch and she knows her words have jarred him, before it tightens again and he presses her head back against the wall, his other hand sliding down the side of her body to grasp her leg just under her knee and quick as a flash, pull it up against him to drive his hips into hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss feeling him fuck you?” He counters spitefully, an edge of gloating in his voice that makes the Doctor summon all her strength and push him away from her with a yell. He stumbles, she shoves him again and sends him crashing back to the floor where he lays sprawled on his back, staring up at her in shock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stands over him, trembling with fury. “How dare you,” she says, barely able to keep the tremor from her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeming to recover from the surprise, the Master props himself up on his forearms as he looks up at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Truth stings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You -“ she cuts off, unable to believe what she’s hearing - how he can have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>gall</span>
  </em>
  <span> -  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you thought about me at night?” He continues before she can gather her thoughts enough to speak again, and he’s getting to his feet and advancing towards her and she’s letting him, backing up. “Because I’ve thought about you. Every night. The feel of you under me, over me,” her back hits the wall and she inhales sharply as he invades her space, “All the ways we made love…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor swallows, tilting her chin up in defiance. “It wasn’t love,” she spits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to start with, no,” he agrees, “but…” He lifts his hand and slowly, carefully as if reaching out to a wild animal liable to strike, eyes searching hers, he reaches forward and brushes her hair back from her face. She lets him. “That’s what it became. I miss you Doctor,” he says, and she sees only honesty in his gaze, only openness in his eyes as he cups the side of her neck and looks deeply into her own. He leans forward, bringing his mouth to her ear and dropping his voice. “I miss making love to my wife…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor’s eyelids flutter, and fury courses through her along with arousal, and she’s mad, so mad at him for making her feel this way, making her want him even after everything he’s done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shoves him with a yell, pushing him roughly into the counter behind him, and then her lips are on his and he’s kissing her back with everything he has, groaning into her mouth, hands all over her as his tongue slides along her own, and he sucks at her teeth and bites at her lip until she is whimpering into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You missed this too,” he’s muttering triumphantly against her mouth, and the Doctor hates him, hates herself for his words being right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoves his hand down the front of her trousers and she gasps, throwing her head back as she feels his fingers slide over her. She knows she’s wet, embarrassingly so, and the only thing that makes her feel better about it is reaching down for his own trousers, wrestling them undone until she can squeeze him in her hand, feel how hard and hot and throbbing for her he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hips jump into hers as he hisses, and she squeezes again, harder this time, and the Master shoves two fingers up into her in retaliation, before pulling them quickly back out to rub rapidly at her clit until her legs are trembling and she has to push his hand away with a gasp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Getting out of her trousers feels like too much to contend with before she can feel him inside her, and she turns in his arms, shoving them and her underwear down and bending forward, letting herself collapse over the countertop and tilting her hips back as she feels him grasp her by the waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She drops her head and moans when he pushes into her, filling her perfectly, and its been</span>
  <em>
    <span> six months,</span>
  </em>
  <span> six months during which the Doctor had never so much as touched herself for fear of losing control of her thoughts, anything sexual far too closely linked to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> - let alone felt anything inside her, and he stretches and aches beautifully as he buries himself fully within her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I missed this,” she hears him breathe behind her, holding still for a moment, just leaning down and panting draped over her back. Her body throbs where they are connected, and his breath is hot on the top of her spine. He nuzzles into her hair, inhaling shakily, and the Doctor swears she feels dampness splash onto the back of her neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Move,” she chokes out, hating herself for letting this happen even as it was. Perhaps if he fucked her hard enough she could stop thinking about what she was doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t. His hands grip her waist but he is gentle in the way he pulls her back into his body as he thrusts into her, and his rhythm is steady, hips rolling into hers and pressing so deeply inside her each time she could cry for how perfect it feels. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head spins, her thoughts race as she lets it happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembers the countless other times he’d fucked her bent over this counter… she remembers the first time he’d done it, that day as sharp as cut glass in her mind. She’d experienced her first female orgasm that day, and the Doctor can still remember vividly the turmoil it had sent Thea’s mind into. She remembers how he’d fucked her again that night, harsh and cruel, and all the other times they had lain together whilst she was Thea. All the ways he had taken her… all the things she’d let him do to her when she felt like she didn’t have a choice - and now here she was, letting him fuck her again, letting him use her body for his own pleasure, just like she’d been used by people every single one of her countless lives -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop,” she gasps out, pushing herself up off the counter as her stomach turns over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop, get off me!” She turns and shoves him as hard as she can, and the Master pulls out of her and staggers back in surprise, and the Doctor stumbles a few steps across the kitchen to the sink, falling over it as she empties her stomach into it, retching and coughing, her body heaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heaves again, and god it’s been a long time since she’s thrown up - not since Thea had the stomach flu over Christmas, and she’d been so out of it then she doesn’t remember that much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels a hand on her back and then fingers combing through her hair, pulling it back from her face and she wants to snap at him to get the fuck away from her, but she’s too busy coughing and heaving to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He holds her hair back with one hand, and rubs over her back with the other, and whilst the Doctor knows she should recoil at his touch, it feels unnervingly soothing, and she can’t help but be comforted by it. She hates herself even more. She remembers how O had taken care of Thea when she’d been ill - and then at the end, after the accident. To think… that had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Master </span>
  </em>
  <span>all along, and the Doctor had just let him hold her life in his hands. He must have </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get off,” she rasps, and his hands leave her body. Her trousers are still caught round her boots, and she shoves the Master away to reach down with shaking hands and drag them back up, fastening them hastily before she sinks down to the floor on trembling legs and leans her head back against the counter, breathing hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears the Master stepping away from her, vaguely hears the sounds of rustling and then clattering about in a cupboard, water running, and then a cool glass of water is being pressed into her hands. She takes it, glancing up at him in contempt, but gratefully drinks a few gulps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master sinks to the floor to sit next to her, a few inches of space between them. The urge to throw the water in his face rises, but the Doctor hastily takes another sip before setting it down beside her on the floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute, she hears the Master clear his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you… want to talk?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was the dinner that bad?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s trying to make a joke, but the Doctor doesn’t think it’s funny, nor does she think now is the time, and bile rises in her throat again. She swallows it back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts where he sits next to her, and she supposes he’s uncomfortable. Good. She aches herself between her legs - can still feel the echo of him inside her, and she’s wet and burning and empty… but the sick feeling still present in her stomach overrides the arousal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All my life, I’ve been used,” she finally speaks, and is thankful he listens and doesn’t reply. “Who knows how many lives that is? I always thought I was free, that I chose my own path… turns out I’ve never chosen anything that happened to me. I don’t even remember most of my lives - don’t even know how many there have been. I’ve never known who I am. Had my mind wiped who knows how many times, forced into being what others wanted me to. And now you’ve done the same thing to me.” She lifts a hand and brushes away the tear that slips down her cheek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he says after a long pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you’re not,” she scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am. I know you don’t believe me and… it’s complicated, because if it wasn’t for our time together - when you were Thea I mean, I never would have realised it to feel sorry for doing it in the first place but… I am sorry for the way I used you. I’m so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>so sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span> Doctor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t reply to that. “Realised what?” She says instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That I’m in love with you,” the Master says like it’s obvious. She snaps her head round to stare at him, the way he says the words feeling like they have more weight now than his claim earlier. “That I’ve always loved you, Doctor, ever since we were children... I don’t know, maybe it was obvious what with everything I did being a bid for your attention but - it wasn’t to me. I thought I hated you for so long. Didn’t realise that what drove me mad about you wasn’t you, yourself, but the fact that I’d never stopped loving you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stares at him. “You don’t love me,” she insists again, frowning, because she </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>believe that… everything is so much worse if she believes that. “You might have loved Thea - or at least thought you did but you don’t love me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you are Thea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” she frowns.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Doctor… you are. Thea was just… a version of you with different memories. Different reactions to things because of your past experiences. But you’re the same person, inside. I loved Thea because I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop saying that,” she grinds out, looking away from his eyes as tears sting in her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t. It’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not true,” she says, and sniffs, “you don’t know what love is. Your perception is warped - you wanted to possess me. Thea was yours, that’s what you believed, and possession is not the same as love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hears the Masts swallow hard and when he doesn’t reply she glances round to see him frowning at his hands, twisting them in his lap, fiddling, twirling over and over -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oscar’s wedding ring. The Master still wore it on his finger. She flicks her gaze up to his face as he begins to speak again, and her hearts pound as she takes in the deep furrow to his brow and the pain in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If that was true, Doctor,” he says quietly, “I never would have let you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lips part, and she can only stare a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know how to reply to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s right… of course. But even if it were all true - if he really did love her as he says… he had still kept her here for a year. Just because he’d done the right thing in the end didn’t make the wrong thing he’d also done any better. It didn’t make it hurt any less.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, the Doctor takes a deep breath. She had come here believing everything he’d done to her had been part of a sick game, spent the last six months telling herself that all the love he’d made Thea believe Oscar felt for her was a lie, but the Doctor is starting to realise that she may have been wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That what’s in the Master’s head (hearts?) and what’s between them may be infinitely more complicated than that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. You wanted to talk,” she finally says, and turns to face him on the floor, legs crossed. “Fine. Let’s talk.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Still two more to go (I think) so don't go anywhere just yet... :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Carefully, the Master shifts his body to face the Doctor too. She is watching him closely, something in her eyes that makes him feel uneasy. Mistrust, he realises; the Doctor is braced, ready to run any second she feels he gives her cause to, and while she is offering him the opportunity to be honest, she doesn’t really believe what he has to say will make her feel any better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows, and tries to decide how to begin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor beats him to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why here?” She says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master tilts his head at her. “What do you mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gestures around. “Here - the fifties. Did you just pick a time when a wife would be expected to obey you but was modern enough to have some comforts too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a start, the Master realises that the Doctor believed he had chosen to take them here. So much had happened - he’d done so much thinking over the last six months but stupidly it hadn’t occurred to him that she would assume he was the cause of their becoming stuck here in the first place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” He blurts out, “That wasn’t me! It was the Tardis!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She narrows her eyes at him. “You’re lying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not lying!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you are. I set the circuit up myself - it was supposed to turn me human with a life on earth in 2020 - where </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were going to take me to my friends and leave me so I could stay a few months until the judoon were off my trail - not turn me into a brainwashed housewife in the fifties!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well you obviously did something wrong because the Tardis brought us here,” he grinds out, “And this house and life were already set up. You must have entered the dates wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” she growls, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> clearly sabotaged it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that what you’ve thought? That I’d seriously choose to strand myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span> with you!? All I did for the first month was try and find a way out of here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And instead you expect me to believe that the Tardis decided I’d be much safer in the fifties with my worst enemy as my husband?” She scoffs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well - no that’s not…” He gives a huff, throws up a hand. Everything was so much easier when he could lie through his teeth to her. “The Tardis dumped us here. She gave you the house and the life, I… wasn’t included. I jimmied it. A bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stares back at him. “Yeah. That sounds more like the truth,” she finally replies quietly, coldness in her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master sighs, shoulders slumping. “It was wrong,” he admits, “To make myself your husband… I know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can say that again,” she snorts, and the Master cannot find the words to reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They fall quiet, the Doctor looking down and fidgeting with her hands in her lap. He realises with a start that shes rubbing the bare ring finger on her left hand. He doesn’t think she knows she’s doing it, and it makes his chest ache. He swallows hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Was it all bad?” He asks quietly. “Being my wife?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns, and it’s a moment before she replies, still refusing to look up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she admits quietly. “But that’s hardly the point.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It counts for something though… doesn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She does look up then, and there’s a deep frown on her face and anger in her eyes. “What, that I didn’t have a completely terrible time in the life </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> forced me into? That I’d accepted that my job was to cook and clean and look after you and just because Thea didn’t hate every minute that makes it alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, that’s not what I’m -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Being brainwashed into submission is not a substitute for contentment, no matter how happy Thea might have </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought </span>
  </em>
  <span>she was - what you were doing to me was still essentially keeping me prisoner here in my own head -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can see she’s getting worked up again and he tries to calm her, to diffuse the situation; “I’m just saying that although what I did was wrong, it wasn’t all bad! I took care of you! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>loved </span>
  </em>
  <span>you -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were holding me hostage!” She snaps. “Keeping me as your servant - to clean your house and warm your bed - and the sex - </span>
  <em>
    <span>god,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she scoffs, shaking her head in disbelief. “You know I’d never even been with anyone in this body - my first female body.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snorts. “Hardly your first - just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean you haven’t -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t matter!” She snaps back, silencing him. She gives a clearly forced laugh. “You know, I didn’t understand why it hurt so much the first few times.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His stomach drops at that, and pain flickers across his face before irritation that she was making him feel guilt like this takes over and he covers it with a frown. “Well you didn’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I was programmed not to!” She exclaims incredulously, throwing her hands up. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> programmed me not to - to be your - </span>
  <em>
    <span>obedient little wife - </span>
  </em>
  <span>and take whatever you did to me!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly what happened and you know it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a pause. He tries to think of the best way to answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t realise I hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffs. “Yes you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” he insists, “Not like that - I didn’t… think about it being your first time - it’s not like we haven’t done that before in almost every one of our regenerations, I just… didn’t think about you being female for the first time. I’m... sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She exhales sharply, shaking her head. “Getting really easy to say that word, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because I mean it -” He reaches for her hand and she snatches it away. The Doctor lifts her head and looks at him, searches his eyes with her own until he is fidgeting, uncomfortable under her scrutinising gaze. She speaks before he can apologise again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You realise you raped me?” She says quietly, “You do understand that don’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenches his jaw and looks away from her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words burn him inside but she’s right, of course. In forcing all that stuff into her head - a life with him, as his wife, memories of repression and obedience to him - he had taken away any choice she had in what they did. Thea had let him into her bed because she believed it was his right; it had never been the Doctor’s choice. The Master had been fully aware of that when he’d come here. At the start, it was one of the main draws of the situation - he’d thought it amusing. Revelled in taking what he wanted from her, making </span>
  <em>
    <span>the Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span> into his subservient little slave. Hatred and rage had coursed through his veins, all the knowledge of what she was and what their people had done to him because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> making his blood boil until he couldn’t hear his thoughts above the fury that burned in his brain with her name on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That hadn’t been her </span>
  <em>
    <span>fault</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And now, it made him feel sick to think of what he’d done to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor still has not spoken again, she just sits there, watching him expectantly for an answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to hurt you,” is what he finally comes up with. He knows he owes it to her not to try and deny it, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor scoffs. “Well congratulations, you succeeded.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No - listen - in the beginning that’s what I wanted but - things changed between us, you know they did! </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> changed -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor throws her hands up, “just because Thea started enjoying sex with her husband doesn’t mean what you were doing to me was any better!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master stares at her, mouth open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But… you liked it,” he says, “You wanted -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not </span>
  <em>
    <span>me,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she snaps, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Thea isn’t me - she was never me! You made Thea. Programmed a robot to do whatever you wished and I never had a choice or a say in any of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at her, alarmed, only able to gape at her a moment in shock as the gravity of those words sink in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you think… that - all of it…?” He trails off, his question hanging in the air between them. The Doctor looks at him with a cold glare.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you should seriously think about whether I as the Doctor would have done the things with you that Thea did with her husband, and you’ll have your answer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You just did,” he blurts out tactlessly, and then he’s flat on his back on the floor and the Doctor is on top of him with her hands around his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hate you,” she saying, almost screaming the words at him, tears on her face and fury in her eyes, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate you!”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The Master lies back and lets her take all her pain and frustration out on him. Her hands are tight around his neck, cutting off his airway and making his head spin and throat ache but he won’t fight her. He’ll pass out beneath her touch if that’s what she wants; he thinks he will happily die under her hands for her if it’s what she needs. Perhaps it would do them both a favour. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His vision has started to blacken around the edges and his lungs are burning, bypass getting ready to kick in (and he might not let it - what’s the point in fighting her, fighting this when she is all that matters now and this is what she wants?) when the grip of the Doctor’s hands suddenly losen, and then she’s slumped forward on top of him, her face pressed into his neck and dampness on his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes a moment for his senses to fully return to him, a moment before he has gulped in enough mouthfuls of air for his lungs to begin working efficiently again and he can think properly. The ghost of her hands still hurts around his throat - but with a clear head he registers that she is collapsed over him panting into his neck, her form trembling lightly on top of him, and the Master tentatively lifts his arms and wraps them tightly round her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” she growls into his skin and he hastily drops his hands, laying them motionless by his sides as the Doctor sniffs loudly, getting ahold of herself, and pushes herself upright. “I should leave,” she says, clambering off him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” His hearts plummet, and he sits bolt upright, panic racing through him at the thought of her going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t helping,” she sniffs again. “It’s just making everything worse.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he begs, “You said we could talk - let me - let me try and explain -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Explain </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She scoffs. “You goal was to hurt me - you just admitted that. You did. And maybe you feel bad for it now that all of that world came crumbling down, but that doesn’t change what you’ve done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I just want -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words are cut off, both of them freezing at the sound of a knocking on the front door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They look at each other, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The knocking sounds out again, followed by a voice ringing in from outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? Is - is anyone in there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor exhales shakily. “Mrs Peters,” she whispers, both of them recognising the voice of their neighbour while they had lived here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The nosy old bag,” the Master mutters. “She must have seen the lights on…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? Is anyone home?” More knocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we do?” The Doctor whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore it. She’ll go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or telephone the police,” the Doctor frowns. “For all she knew this house was empty. She’ll think somebody’s broken in…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his forehead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Open it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t go with her, but gets to his feet and moves out into the living room so he can hear as the Doctor makes her way to the front door, and eases it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea!” Comes the gasp form the other side. “Eddy, I told you I heard voices in here! We thought it might be squatters but I said maybe you’d come back… where have you been? What happened? We’ve all been worried sick!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he hears the Doctor’s voice. “We… we had to go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Away? For six months - without telling anyone? Nobody knew what happened to you both - you just disappeared without a word! - And what are you wearing my dear? Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I’m fine,” she quickly says. “Sorry, it was… last minute,” the Master hears her mumble and rolls his eyes, shaking his head. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful </span>
  </em>
  <span>at lying. Taking a deep breath, he pastes on a pleasant expression and steps out into the hall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you could have written…” Mrs Peters is saying when she catches sight of him and trails off. He smiles brightly at her and her husband, hovering behind her at the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Mr and Mrs Peters, nice to see you both again,” the Master says politely, stepping up beside the Doctor with a hand on her back. “We’re terribly sorry for vanishing like we did. My aunt lives down south and became suddenly very ill - we’ve no other family in the country so we had to go down and care for her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” Says Mrs Peters. The Master feels the Doctor tense under his hand and drops it from her back. “How awful. Is she alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still unwell I’m afraid. We just came back for some belongings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re not staying?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” the Doctor jumps in before he can reply. “We’re moving away. Just came to pack up the house.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes and we're in a bit of a rush,” the Master adds. “So…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” the older woman’s face falls. “So… you’re leaving for good?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor nods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you’ll visit? Oh you must! Everyone’s been asking about you - Sarah cried for days, she misses you painfully - even the butcher asks every week if any of us have heard from you!” The Master watches as she speaks, takes in the genuine dismay on her friends’ faces. Everyone who met the Doctor, no matter what form she was in, seemed to find themselves enthralled - it irritated him to no end at one point… but he knows now he cannot deny that he had never been immune from the pull of her aura. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we miss you at cards, Oscar old chap,” Mr Peters speaks up from beside his wife, his kind gaze on the Master, and he is so startled he can’t find the words to reply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor forces a smile from his side. “I’ll try and visit. Sometime.” The Master can hear the lie through her words; she has no intention of coming back here and it pains her to bid her friends goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please do - and you must write and let me have your new address!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smile still frozen on her face, she nods, and steps forward to let Mrs Peters pull her into a quick hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take care, my dear,” she murmurs to the Doctor, then turns to O, and he is utterly stunned to find himself wrapped in a quick embrace too, the older woman’s perfume hitting him as she squeezes him tightly before releasing him, leaving him blinking after her. Mr Peters grabs his hand, giving it a firm shake, before taking the Doctor’s too, and leaning in to press a kind kiss to her cheek. There are tears in Mrs Peters’ eyes as she bids them a final goodbye and turns to walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor closes the door behind them and leans back against it. She looks shaken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I shouldn’t have left without saying anything,” she says quietly after a moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can’t go changing it now,” the Master shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she agrees, pushing away from the door and wandering through to the sitting room. “I can’t.” She collapses down on the sofa and leans forward, elbows on her knees and head in her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tentatively, the Master trails after her, perching on the other end of the settee. He waits for her to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I changed back,” she begins quietly, “All I could think about was getting away from you… I barely paid all the people we left behind a second thought. I missed them - but I never thought about how they would miss me. Us. Never thought that they’d probably worry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master lets out a sigh. “We had a whole life here,” he reminds her quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” the Doctor replies. She seems calmer now than she’d been before, at least, and the Master licks his lips and takes a deep breath before continuing carefully. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A good life,” he dares to dub it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t reply for a long moment, before she finally lifts her head from her hands and sits up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she agrees, “Some of the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most of the time,” the Master nudges. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t reply. It’s not a denial, at least. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallows again. “Can I ask you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glances round at him. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master takes a deep breath before he speaks, half dreading her answer - half wondering if he really wants to know. But he must. “Did you love O?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns and breaks the gaze. “Thea believed she did.” She says after a pause. “But she was in love with a lie… wasn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her words sting and he frowns, tries to protest; “He was me -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she shakes her head. “He was a character, an act. Thea could never have loved you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh,” the Master says, and looks down, his chest physically clenching tight with a wave of pain that makes him feel sick. She was right, of course. Thea had all the light and kindness the Doctor held in her hearts, but without the darkness of her past(s) hanging over her. She was innocent, and Thea had barely been able to cope with the knowledge of him having murdered a couple of insignificant humans… there was no way on this earth she would ever have loved the monster he really is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> something?” The Doctor speaks again after a moment and he looks up at her with hope in his eyes at the soft curious tone of her voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you do it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said you were going to turn yourself human. If you’re not lying to me and that’s what you really wanted… why didn’t you? We could have stayed, lived out our lives together, never knowing any different...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, the Master isn’t sure how to answer that question. He’s been so vulnerable with her already, opening up the deep truth of that decision feels like too much pain to bear to a person who’s made it obvious she doesn’t feel the same way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shifts on the sofa. “Because… I tired of this place. Wanted my life back. Suppose I’m selfish.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stares back at him. “If you were selfish you would have done it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t reply, picking at a thread on his trousers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What made you turn me back?” She presses in a whisper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just said -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she argues, “that’s not it. You said…” Her voice goes quiet with an edge of vulnerability to her words, “you said before, that you let me go because you - love me -“ The words sound like they stick in her throat - like they are alien for her to utter out loud. He supposed when it comes to him, they are. “But why </span>
  <em>
    <span>then</span>
  </em>
  <span>? We were here for a whole year and you kept me like this… what was the catalyst?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… had enough of pretending.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says, and he hates that lying to her has seemingly become so difficult she can see straight through any attempts he makes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks back on that moment, that awful, painful moment when he’d looked at Thea curled up broken on the floor and knew his whole world had to come crumbling down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were hurting,” he finally replies, “You were hurting, and I couldn’t bear it. It wasn’t fair to keep you that way.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stares back at him. “There you go,” she finally whispers. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For giving me the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns at her. “I’ve been giving you the truth all night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well…” she says quietly, “You’ll forgive me if I find it hard to believe you after spending a year living a lie of your concoction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he sighs, mumbling, “I’ll forgive you anything.” He dares to glance up at her. “And… me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you? Forgive me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor frowns deeply at that and breaks the gaze. “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master stares at her with pain in his hearts. “Ask me anything,” he begs after a moment, “Anything - and you can have the truth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, she shifts on the settee, turning to face him and bringing her feet up, pulling her knees up to her chest to wrap her arms around them. “Alright,” the Doctor nods. “Gallifrey,” she says quietly, surprising him with the word, and looks at him like she isn’t sure she wants to know the answer. “Did you tell me everything you learnt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “Yes. I mean - I had longer to dig around in the matrix than you did so I probably saw more, but I didn’t hide anything from you while you were there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So all those lives of mine… they’re really lost?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As far as I could tell. Somebody has erased them from the matrix. From you mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head at him and watches him closely. “And you’re not lying to me? That wasn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I swear it, Doctor. I wouldn’t lie about that.” She just stares back at him and he sighs. “You don’t believe me, do you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she says slowly, “I think I do. Another question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When did you realise you loved Thea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” he corrects, and she quickly shakes her head. Perhaps it is easier for her to think of herself and Thea as separate people, and if that’s what she wishes, he won’t argue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was… gradual. I think you - she - started to irritate me less and less, and then suddenly I realised I </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to spend time with her - make her happy. After the wedding. That’s when things really changed. I hurt her that night and I’ve never hated myself more. Once… I admitted that to myself, I just loved you more every day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on,” she huffs, rolling her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s true.” He ducks his head to look into her eyes as she tries to avoid his own, “You must have felt it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were different, yes,” she admits carefully. “I felt it in the way you looked at me. The way you touched me… Thea didn’t understand - mostly why her husband was ever so cold and cruel to her in the first place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. “It’s easy to say now, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks at her honestly. “It’s long overdue. I could give you a thousand apologies and it still wouldn’t be enough,” he admits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Well.” She shifts where she sits, looking uncomfortable, and he suspects she knows he is referring not just to what he’d done to her as ‘Oscar’, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Everything he’d ever done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I owe you a few apologies of my own,” she mumbles. There’s a pause before she gives a heavy sigh, and leans her head to rest on the back of the settee, gazing over at him with tired, aching eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did we ever end up like this?” She whispers. The Master swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither of us have really ever been in control of our lives, have we?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What they did to you was wrong,” he says firmly, realising as he speaks the irony of those words and feeling a flush come to his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thankfully doesn’t comment on it, instead countering with, “what they did to you was wrong too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They did that to all our race,” he mutters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not that. They messed with your head, caused you pain and suffering and irreparable damage… I remember what you told Thea,” she presses softly, “that the drumming still plagues you, even though it’s gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a knot in his stomach - he never had liked this deep level of vulnerability. “See,” he says quietly, “it wasn’t all lies.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. It wasn’t,” she agrees with a sigh. She’s still gazing at him where her head rests on the back of the sofa, and he isn’t certain what to make of the look in her eyes... but at least it’s morphed away from betrayal and hatred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I burned them for what they did to you,” he finds himself admitting darkly as he gazes back at her, “I never even admitted that reasoning properly to myself - I was furious that I’d been lied to - made into something different because of </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but I was even more furious at what they’d done to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All of gallifrey though,” the Doctor whispers, and tears shine in her eyes, “They were innocents - who knew nothing of who they really were, just like you hadn’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The whole race was a lie. A mockery. It deserved to be wiped out. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserve it -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” she argues, but he plunges on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you’d do it, you know. Thought the cybermaster army might finally push you over the edge. And we could be over - </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be over, finally.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns at him, lifts her head from the back of the settee. “Suicide isn’t your style.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he admits. “But dying together with you… that would have felt right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She swallows hard, he hears it in the quiet of the house, and looks down at her knees. “And yet we’re still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still here,” he agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So where do we go from here?” She whispers the words like she is truly asking; like she has no clue what to do next. The Master shrugs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Carry on, I suppose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hating each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’ve well established that what I feel for you is quite the opposite to hate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... I suppose we have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you?” He dares to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head at him. “What about me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it still all hatred?” He says the words lightly, but they hold a depth behind them, and his stomach ties in a knot of dread at hearing her answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor gives a sigh and closes her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could just hate you… my life would make a lot more sense. But you and I could never be that simple.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor,” he breathes, and reaches out tentatively, placing a hand on her knee. He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, but is surprised when she slips her hand over it and squeezes, before dropping her legs down and lowering the barrier between them, allowing him to shift closer to her on the sofa and take her hand fully in his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reaches out with the other, drawn to her like a magnet, slipping it into her hair and letting his thumb caress her cheek as she leans in to the touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moves in further, closing the gap between them, and the Doctor watches him quietly, her face open, and gaze flicking down to his lips as his hand pushes further into her hair and his hearts are going wild in his chest as he brings his mouth towards hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turns her head at the last minute, making a small sound of protest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master freezes. “I - thought -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No it…” she gives him a pointed look, “I threw up,” she reminds him, looking a little embarrassed as she mumbles the words, and the Master’s shoulders sag with relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he says, he could almost laugh, hating to admit to himself how terrified he’d been for a split second that she was rejecting him. Again. “Well… Thea’s things are still here. There’s probably toothpaste and a brush up in the bathroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor nods and they both clamber to their feet. He follows her out of the sitting room, trailing after her upstairs. It feels strange; walking up those stairs like he’d done countless times before, his wife ahead of him. She wasn’t that anymore, but she was still here right now, and for that the Master is grateful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unwilling to let her out of his sight, he perches on the edge of the bath while she brushes her teeth, fiddling with the ring on his finger until she spits out the toothpaste and washes her mouth out. She doesn’t turn to him when she’s finished, instead, she moves quietly through to their bedroom. The bedroom they had shared as a couple here for a year, where he’d slept beside her every night, woken next to her every morning, spent countless hours between the sheets with her skin against his, learning how to make her come alive under his touch. He gives himself a shake, trying to chase those thoughts from his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t bother with putting a light on, and the room is illuminated only by the soft glow coming from the bathroom, and the moonlight seeping in around the edges of the boarded up window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking torn, she sits on the edge of the bed. The Master hesitates before clearing his throat and walking slowly across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It feels strange, being back here like this, doesn’t it?” He says, carefully sitting down next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so much for you,” the Doctor comments. “You were here as yourself all along. The last time I was in this room I believed I was a different person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he replies quietly, “I suppose you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you miss her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea?” He says with surprise, and the Doctor nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How could I miss her?” He says, “When she’s sitting right next me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not Thea,” she insists with a frown, “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>Thea. I’m so different to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs slowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do</span>
  <em>
    <span> you </span>
  </em>
  <span>miss her?” He asks, instead of arguing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns and looks away. “Sometimes… I miss how simple things were,” she says carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he nods, “I get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss him,” she admits quietly, “I miss O,” and the Master inhales sharply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wishes he could be him in that moment. He wishes with everything he is that he could be the man she wants. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if he raced downstairs into her Tardis and changed himself human right this minute, whether she would love him then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gives a sigh suddenly, and shifts, swinging her legs up and crawling across the bed to lay down on her side on Thea’s side of it like she is exhausted. If she feels anything like he does, then he expects she probably is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been so angry with you for so long,” she admits quietly, fiddling with the pillow, “I thought… this whole thing was just another one of your horrible games.” Her gaze flicks up to his. “But that’s not entirely true, is it? And you’ve been hurting too…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swallowing thickly, the Master shifts round, and cautiously crawls up onto the bed to lay down opposite her, mirroring her position so they are eye to eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve missed you every second,” he admits in a whisper, and thinks for a moment the Doctor might cry, before she takes a deep breath and composes herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is a long moment before she speaks, and he can see her thinking as her eyes dart over his collar and up across his hair - avoiding looking directly into his as she runs through her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you really love me,” she finally says quietly, hazel eyes boring into his again, “will you do something for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything,” he replies, and the Doctor swallows hard before replying quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... Be Oscar again?” She whispers, “just for tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Mater’s lips part and his eyes glisten as he stares at her in the dark. “Are you… you want me to -?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods slowly, eyes vulnerable as she stares back at him, and a few seconds tick past as the Master searches her eyes with his own, and then slowly, tentatively, he reaches out with a hand, letting it hover between them a moment before placing it gently on the side of her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea,” he whispers, and the Doctor surges forward with a whimper, pressing her lips to his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m a disaster but I think there's still gonna be two more chapters after this... Always underestimate how long things will take me to get through (and you can see now how much I don't plan) I’m sorry 😅 I’m writing quickly though so it shouldn’t take too long regardless, and you can follow me on twitter @spoilersweetfic for updates if you want! :)</p><p>Your comments and support mean the world to me!! ❤</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Doctor is warm and soft under his hands - no, not the Doctor; </span>
  <em>
    <span>Thea</span>
  </em>
  <span> - she is Thea as she rolls eagerly onto her back when he nudges at her, and he breaks the kiss to lean up over her, hands braced either side of her head as he looks down into her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dark hazel eyes gaze back up at him, lips swollen from his kisses and parted as she breathes heavily, a flush across her cheeks and down her neck. Her hair is shorter now than it had grown whilst she was Thea, cut into a neat bob and straightened; it fans out across the pillow, rumpled from his hands and he can almost pretend it’s waved softly like she used to wear it. She wears less makeup (none?) than she had as Thea - and even that had been minimal - but the Master thinks she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Six months starved of this sight and the vision of her spread out beneath him is sweet nectar to a man dying of thirst.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you staring at?” She mumbles, reaching up to toy with a strand of his dark hair that’s fallen across his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You,” he says, and his throat feels tight. “Just thinking about how lucky I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor smiles, her face bright and open, warmth in her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna show me your appreciation then?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He musters a smile back to keep the charade, even though his chest aches like it’s in a vice. Taking a moment to collect himself, he drops his head to her neck to hide his face, lips moving lazily against her skin as he presses soft kisses there. She tilts her head back against the pillow to give him more access, sighing softly, one hand gliding up across his shoulders and into his hair. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels her arch beneath him, pressing her chest up into his, and he shifts his weight to the side to let his hand slide up over her torso, across the dip in her small waist and tracing her ribs before cupping her breast over her shirt. She moans softly, and he squeezes her in his hand as his kisses move down across her collarbone. It’s a little strange; to feel the loose cotton of her shirt and the padded material of the elastic bra she has on beneath it - some sort of sports type he expects. It’s different. He’d become so used to handling her in dresses that cinched her waist in and delicate undergarments.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s shuffling beneath him and he lifts up to help her push her coat from her shoulders, allowing her enough room to yank it out from beneath her and toss it to the floor before shoving at his own. Her fingers hurry down the buttons of his waistcoat, an intent frown on her face as she undresses him hastily; eager to peel all traces of the Master from his body. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She works on his shirt as he unsnaps her suspenders - a different sort to the type she used to wear (his mouth could still water to think of her in stockings and lingerie; Thea had taught him a whole new appreciation for feminity where he’d previously leaned more towards men - he thinks perhaps he would just be enraptured by whatever form the Doctor was in) and by the time he has them undone and her shirt untucked she has his shoved from his shoulders so he is bare from the waist up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nails rake lightly over his chest and small warm palms smooth down across his stomach and round his sides, gliding over his ribcage to his back, fingertips tracing lightly down either side of his spine making him hiss and tighten inside his trousers. He’s achingly hard for her already, but he is determined to take his time; to appreciate every inch of her while he still can. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shimmies his way down her body, rucking up her shirt so he can drop kisses down over her stomach, enjoying the way her muscles tighten against his mouth when they brush over an area he knows is particularly ticklish. She squirms, pushing a hand into his hair again and tugging impatiently. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O,” she breathes above him, and his dark eyes flick up to hers. He smirks at her, and instead of moving down, he works his way up, lifting up so he can tug her shirts over her head, followed by her bra, and when he settles over her this time he can press his face into her bare chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling?” She murmurs after he's lain there a moment - and oh, it had been too long since he had heard her call him that. He turns his head and bites at her breast in response, sucking and sinking his teeth in until there is a dark mark there and she is gasping quietly, arching up into the pressure. He moves sideways to take her nipple into his mouth, sliding his other hand up the side of her body to grasp her other breast, squeezing and rubbing at her, caressing until she is mewling softly, fidgeting and restless beneath his body. When he glances up at her, her face is flushed even further, and there’s a faint sheen of sweat across her forehead. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please darling,” she breathes, “stop teasing me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or what?” He growls playfully into her skin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His grin changes to an open-mouthed gasp when she shifts a knee between them and presses up against his erection. She moves her leg, rubbing steadily as her eyes twinkle with mischief, and the Master hisses before he shifts, moving to grab the offending leg and push it up and out so he is settled between her thighs. Leaning his weigh on his hands either side of her again, he rubs himself against her, thrusting rhythmically, pressing his erection against the heat directly between her legs through their clothing and making her gasp. He rocks into her until her eyelids are fluttering, breath coming out in short pants and fingers digging in where she clutches at his arms. And then, although it physically pains him, he moves away, shuffling down on the bed until his face is level with her hips and he can unbutton her trousers and drag them down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She helps him, lifting her hips then her legs, letting him tug off her boots and yank the trousers free, already pushing at her underwear herself as he tosses them to the floor. He takes over, eyes on hers as he tugs her knickers down her legs and aside, then nudges her knees apart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She is wet and pink and slightly swollen from his stimulation already, and the heady scent of her hits him hard and makes him groan softly. He leans down, pressing his cheek to her thigh and inhaling deeply as she squirms restlessly beneath him. He has missed her </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brings his hand to her, running it down the inside of her other thigh, and brushes his thumb over her wet folds, watching her hips twitch into the touch. It had all been so fast when she’d let him fuck her earlier, and that encounter had been… messy, and he cringes to think of the way it had ended. He shouldn’t have done it; neither of them where in a clear enough state of mind to think through what they were doing and it had </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s not going to make that same mistake again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wants Oscar and not the Master, and that is what he will give her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Spreading her lips apart with two fingers, the Master brings his mouth to her, and licks up from her entrance to her clit before taking the swollen nub into his mouth and sucking gently. She keens, hips rising into his touch, and her hand buries itself in his hair as he begins to work her with his mouth. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O, O, Oscar, love,” she’s chanting, her eyes tightly shut and head tipped back when he glances up. Lost in her fantasy. The name stings him just a little bit but… it’s what she wants, and the Master would give her anything she asked for tonight.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Focusing fully on what he’s doing, he flicks his tongue rhythmically over her clit, alternating between licking and sucking at her until she is letting out little moans with each puff of air, her chest heaving and heel digging into his shoulderblade. The hand in his hair grips tightly enough to be painful, but he doesn’t stop, feeling her grow wetter and wetter as he laps at her. He drags his tongue through her folds, licking into every crevice and listening to the Doctor moan softly, then pushes it inside her and swirls around her opening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Thea had always loved that, and the Doctor it seems is no different, gasping and pushing her hips up towards his mouth as she sighs his (O’s) name, and suddenly he wants to be pressed up against her more than anything. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dark, lust-clouded eyes blink open as he kisses his way back upwards, and the Doctor gazes up at him softly as he crawls up on top of her, thinking of all the others times she and he had been in this position in this very bed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much had changed between them in that year, and Thea had grown confident enough in bed to want to take control of the situation herself when she felt like it. He had taught her how give and take worked - restraint, pain to a certain degree… she’d been a keen learner, and more than willing to try things with him. And she had proven herself surprisingly capable when she decided it was her turn to take charge. The Master had loved her pressing him down and binding his hands above his head so she could do what she willed with him just as much as he loved her letting him have his way, however he wanted, with her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Tonight, it seemed, that the Doctor wanted to yield to him; she lays pliant and submissive beneath him, letting him nudge her this way and that as he shifts up over her and shoves a pillow beneath her hips, kneeling up between her open legs to push his trousers and underwear down, before he lowers himself down over her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The both moan quietly as he slides over her, rubbing the length of his erection through her slick folds. He reaches down between them, taking himself in his hand and teasing her with the tip of his cock, rubbing at her clit until she’s whimpering quietly and raising her hips towards him, then nudging it against her entrance. She makes a soft, desperate sound that carries an edge of pain; enough to make him freeze and stare down into her face. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks there is a glimmer of tears in her eyes but then she blinks and nods hastily and they are gone. “Yes. Of course I am darling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Swallowing hard, he leans down, dropping a kiss to her jaw and pressing his cheek to hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you sure you want this?” The question is quiet in her ear, his voice barely above a whisper. It would kill him to stop now but if it’s what the Doctor wants, he will. However, she nods immediately, hands tightening where she grips him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she murmurs back, “I’m sure. I want you; I want to feel my husband inside me…” </span>
  <em>
    <span>one last time</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She doesn’t say it, but they both know that’s what she means. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A lump aching in his throat again, the Master moves his head and kisses her, pressing his tongue into her open mouth as he sinks his hips down, easing inside her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moans quietly into his mouth, sucking on his tongue as she wraps her legs around his waist, linking them together at the ankles and locking him against her like she is afraid he may leave. Fully within her, he rocks his hips, nudging against her deep inside where he is buried; there isn’t much friction like this but she feels so perfect around and against him he can’t bring himself to move away even by an inch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her nails dig into his back, and when their lips part she is breathing heavily against his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harder,” she breathes, “please darling.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shh,” he murmurs, lifting a hand to brush her hair back from her face, cupping her cheek. “Let me take this slow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her brow furrows. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because…” he trails off. He could tell her it’s because he doesn’t want to hurt her; because he can’t bear to mirror what had happened between them earlier that night (and so many other times), and because he thinks it will kill him when this is over so he wants to savour every moment. But that would bring him out of character, and that’s not what the Doctor wants. Instead he takes a deep breath and smirks down at her. “I like to see you squirm,” he proclaims.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor lets out a puff of laughter, rolling her eyes. He suspects she knows the true reasoning, but she is happier to play along, gazing up at him from under her lashes and biting her lip enticingly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want me to beg?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The “yes” has tumbled from his lips before he can stop it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please,” she replies huskily, “please take me harder, you feel so good inside me, make me scream, make love to me until I can’t breathe, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span> O</span>
  <em>
    <span>...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master has to squeeze his eyes shut, dropping his head to her neck as his hips jerk into her at her words. He throbs inside her, and the Doctor moans softly, tightening her legs around him, lifting her knees up further so he can press even deeper into her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He feels her mouth press against his ear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop holding back,” she whispers into it, “you know I can take it…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Those words are all it takes for his control to snap, and he pushes himself up to shift up onto his knees, sitting back on his heels with his legs spread wide and taking hold of her hips to shove them both further up in the bed, making her squeak in surprise. He can lean forward and grasp the headboard now, and the Master takes a second to brace himself, taking in the beautiful sight of the Doctor (Thea) spread out beneath him and gazing up at him like he is her world, before, using his grip for leverage, he begins thrusting into her hard enough to have her shrieking in seconds. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The headboard bangs against the wall, the bed creaks and their moans fill the room and echo throughout the empty house but neither of them care, too intent on each other and the pleasures they can draw from their bodies. She is so wet as he slides in and out of her that it drips down between them, and the noise of her slickness and his hips connecting with her with each thrust joins the other sounds as he throws control out the window. It’s rough, and filthy and primal and it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>perfect</span>
  </em>
  <span>… Thea and Oscar had fucked like this sometimes, once Thea had learnt that great pleasure could be found by throwing control and dignity aside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Well.. no. They had fucked like this before , hadn’t they? Or rather, he had fucked </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pressing her down into their bed, the table, the kitchen counter… wherever he felt like and having his way with her however roughly he pleased. The Doctor’s words from earlier when she had confronted plainly what he’d done to her jump back at him and slide down his spine like ice, and he loses his rhythm, hips slowing and going still against her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“O?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head to clear it, and looks down into her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay with me,” she whispers. They are both panting and he trembles where he holds himself above her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m here,” he says, mouth dry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel so good, please don’t stop.” She rocks her hips against him, coaxing him back into a steady rhythm. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he murmurs, “I was just… thinking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctor grabs his backside with both hands and hauls him into her, shifting where she’s curled up on herself, lifting her knees up higher and arching impatiently beneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she growls, a little more of the Doctor than Thea in her words (threat?), frustration seeping through. “No thinking. Just be here with me, now. I don’t want to think anymore…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Understanding that she needs this, no matter how fucked up everything has been between them, the Master shoves those thoughts to the back of his mind and nods, focusing on her now instead, gripping the headboard tight again and pumping into her until she’s gasping. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He draws out of her, shaking with need, and nudges at her, and the Doctor shifts over, twisting onto her front and laying with her hips propped up on the pillow, back arched as he grips her backside and presses back into her. He pushes down on her lower back, tilting her hips further into him, and she groans low and deep, shifting her legs apart further and pressing back against him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There you go,” he breathes, “Just like that…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master holds still inside her, and impatient, the Doctor goes up onto her forearms and starts rocking back against him, panting hard as she fucks him, her backside smacking into his hips with each thrust until the Master is groaning with pleasure. His hand flies out, sliding up over her sweat-damp back and into her short hair, gripping tightly and pulling until she comes up onto her knees, arching her back, and he grasps her by the arm with his other hand to hold her steady as his hips snap into hers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” she gasps, “darling - oh! O - there, </span>
  <em>
    <span>there!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You like that?” He growls.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes! Don’t stop -“</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gonna come for me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” She gasps frantically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come for your husband like a good girl then, that’s it, come on now…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She cries out in response, almost a shriek, and he drops her as she starts to come, shoving her down onto her face and smacking her on the behind as she spasms around him, moaning helplessly into her pillow as he pounds into her. When he draws out and rolls her over again she is still trembling, flushed with pleasure, eyes glazed over as she gazes up at him, gasping for breath. He is shaking himself, desperately trying to hold back as his cock weeps and throbs, and the Doctor looks down at it with lust-clouded eyes, reaching out to wrap her small hand around him and begin stroking him determinedly. He hisses, grabbing her wrist. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t want me to finish like this, do you?” He says, and she musters a cheeky smile, squeezing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t mind.” Another squeeze and he almost chokes, collapsing down over her, just catching himself on his hand beside her head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thea,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he warns. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, dear?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force his thoughts elsewhere. “I’m not - I’m not done with you yet…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well you’d better get on with it then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He yanks her wrist away from him, pinning it to the pillow beside her head, and looks down into her face. Her eyes are twinkling with mirth and her kiss-swollen lips are parted, and the Master doesn’t think he’d ever seen a sight more beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” She murmurs, and he gives himself a little shake, realising he’d been staring down at her for a frozen moment, and has to blink furiously a second to clear the tears from his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just deciding how I’m gonna have you this time,” he quips lightly. He suspects she sees through the act but she doesn’t say anything, instead wriggles a little beneath him, tilting her chin up as she appraises him above her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Any way you want,” she flirts lowly, and the Master feels his balls tighten in response, and lowers his hips to hers, rolling against her with a hiss before pulling them back for fear of losing control of himself so late in the game.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s smirking now, and her gaze flickers down between them as she licks her lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s almost too real; this playfulness she's emanating. It had taken the Master a while to coax Thea out of her repressed mindset in which she’d believed her job was simply to lie there, but once he had… oh, they had had some fun. He’d taught her so much, and Thea had proven an eager student.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He knew how to work the Doctor’s body; always had. It didn’t matter what form she was in, she (or he) always reacted the same way, always wanted the same things fundamentally, even if things like kinks varied a little from regeneration to regeneration. The Doctor and the Master had never seen that as a draw back; just enjoyed the excitement of working out each other’s tendencies each time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This version of her - Thea, specifically, was beautifully open to him in a way none of the Doctors had been since their youth… Thea, of course, had believed she was with a husband who loved her, and had no reason to hold any parts of herself back from him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wonders at the openness in her gaze now, and feels so privileged that she’s giving it to him even after everything he did, those tears sting in his eyes again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He drops his head to her neck and presses his lips to her collarbone to hide them, shoving those thoughts from his head and trying to get back into the mindset of Oscar. That was who she wanted, after all. He and the Master weren’t so different really, deep down - especially when it came down to this. But he suspects the Doctor is not ready to face that fact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>want?” He murmurs into her skin.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want you back inside me before I go cold,” she quips, and he chuckles, lips against her throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Feeling in control of his emotions again, he lifts up, bracing himself over her to look down at where she lays spread out beneath him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She looks beautifully halfway ruined by him already, and gazes up at him with such devotion it makes his hearts ache. Suddenly he doesn’t want to take her like this again; to be reminded of all the times he’d fucked her without bothering to ask if it was what she wanted too and she had just lain there and let him do it. He shifts, rolling off her and onto his back and tugging at her gently.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Darling?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Here,” he murmurs, guiding her up and over him, “your turn.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tired already?” She teases as she slips a leg over him and settles up astride his hips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He just smiles wistfully and lays back as she shifts herself into position, reaching for his cock and taking it in her hand to line him up with her hot core. They both sigh as she sinks down, the Master’s hands going to her hips to steady rather than guide her, and the Doctor lowers herself all the way until she is sitting, and he is fully sheathed within her. She pauses, panting a little, looking down into his eyes, her intense gaze strange enough that he rubs his thumbs over her hips soothingly after a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you thinking, love?” He asks her gently, and the Doctor appears to give herself a little shake.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nothing,” she says, “just how good you feel.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It sounds like a fib but he lets her have it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She takes his hands from her hips and leans forward to press them to the bed beside his head, her fingers linked with his and a smirk on her lips as she looms over him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah?” The Master murmurs, and she nods, leaning down to kiss him as she starts to rock her hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moves slowly at first, an even, steady rhythm that has them both moaning into each other’s mouths, and then she breaks the kiss and pushes herself up, leaning all her weight on his hands as she starts to fuck him faster. Her head drops and her eyes close, a small frown of concentration on her brow as she chases her pleasure atop him, the bed bouncing with her movements.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, you’re perfect,” the Master finds himself gasping, squeezing her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me,” the Doctor begs, speeding up. “O, tell me how I feel…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You feel perfect sweetheart,” he says, knowing she wants him to talk to Thea. “Hot and tight and incredible...”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She pulls her hands from his to push herself upright, bracing them on his chest for balance and lifting herself up until he is almost fully withdrawn from inside her, before pressing her hips back down. They both moan and she does it again, and again, finding a furious rhythm that has them both sweating and gasping in minutes as their combined pleasure builds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s it love,” the Master breathes, hands on her thighs now, “you’re so beautiful, look at you. My wife.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Doctors inhales sharply and her loses her rhythm just momentarily before determination crosses her brow and she shifts again, switching to a fast grinding movement, hips rolling as she works him with her body, her small breasts bouncing with her movements and a bead of sweat trailing down her neck as she rides him furiously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Master reaches up to cup her chest, squeezing her breasts and pinching one of her nipples just the way she likes until she’s gasping, moving even quicker. One of her own hands flies down between her legs, small fingers slipping frantically over her clit as the nails of her other hand curl into his chest where she is bracing herself, the sharp sting making him buck his hips up into her and pinch harder at her nipple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she climaxes this time, she cries out a name, and it kills the Master a little that that name is Oscar and not his own.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His own orgasm is bittersweet. The Doctor collapses forward on top of him, still fluttering wildly around him and he twists them both hastily onto their sides, holding her boneless form steady by the hips to pump into her, his own hips jerking until with a cry muffled into her neck, he feels himself spill deep inside her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He clutches her afterwards, still buried within her, neither seeming ready to let the other go, and now… now he cannot stop the emotion from pouring forth. If she feels the dampness of his tears against her neck she doesn’t say anything; he thinks he can hear her sniffling quietly by his own ear too. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he’s got control of himself, he sniffs, and lifts his head, shifting to make to pull out of her, but the Doctor tightens her hold on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No yet,” she whispers by his ear. “I missed you,” she breathes quietly, and the Master’s hearts sing - “... O.” - and drop, sinking down, down into his stomach until his lungs feel like lead and his mouth is so dry it is a moment before he can coax his tongue into forming words.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he can, he finds himself too bitter to prevent the question in his head from tumbling from his lips; “Only Oscar?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He expects her to say yes, and is suprised (and horribly hopeful) when she does not immediately reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs heavily, and presses her nose into his neck. The Master can hear his heartbeats in his ears and feel the double thud of her own matching ones against his chest as he waits with baited breath for her reply. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are Oscar.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He thinks he’s imagined the words at first, almost asks her to repeat them - but then he registers the way she’s held her breath, how she’s gone perfectly still against him, and recognises it for the unease she is feeling at letting him have her honesty. He exhales, his whole body relaxing, and feels her do the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he agrees softly, wrapping her tighter in his arms like this way he might be able to keep her here forever. “I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>—</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't believe there's only one more chapter to go... if you're sad it's ending I'm even sadder to be ending it... but it's time. </p>
<p>Smut usually flows pretty easily for me but this chapter has stressed me out so much?? Maybe it's because I know it's nearing an end or maybe because it's so complicated and delicate between them now, I was anxious about this not coming across as tasteless at this point. I really really live to hear your thoughts so please drop me a comment if you have the time! ❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we are! The final chapter...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Remember when we went to see that film at the cinema - the one with those things with the really bad masks?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That horror film?” He replies from next to her and she nods. “You were really scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was not,” she elbows him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you were. You had your face buried in my shoulder half the night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… maybe Thea was a little scared. But only because she’d never seen a horror film before! If I saw it again now I wouldn’t be scared. Love a good horror, me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master chuckles, shifting onto his side where they lay next to each other in their - Thea and Oscar’s - bed, the sheets pulled up over their bare forms and a strange sort of peace settled over them as they reminisce. The Doctor aches pleasantly between her legs and she can still feel the evidence of where he’d been inside her on the inside of her thighs. She squirms a little, ignoring the heat that flares in her core as the Master strokes a hand over her bare stomach beneath the sheets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I distracted you quite well, if I remember rightly…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor feels her body grow warmer as his words trail off and his hand splays over her abdomen. She covers it with her own, biting her lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you did. I’ve still no idea how the movie ended.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His nails curl into her skin lightly and the Doctor traces her fingers over the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was your point?” He prompts gently, jostling her out of the memory. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My point? Oh.” She sighs, shrugging. “It was just nice. Dinner, and the pictures. I remember thinking that it made me feel like a teenager, out on a date.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take you again, if you like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles, shaking her head as she releases an amused puff of air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about when the fairground came into town,” the Master says, “and you dragged me down there every night that week.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor turns her head to grin at him. “Those bumper cars were amazing! Some of the best I’ve been on. I love the fifties - not tied down by so many health and safety regulations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you nearly ran me over,” he drawls, unamused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it’s not my fault you got out of your car mid-go. You’re not supposed to do that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was leaving! You kept crashing into me and we were supposed to be on the same team!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no teams in bumper cars, it’s every man for himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master grumbles, and the Doctor is terribly amused that he’s apparently still sore about the incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sulked for hours,” she laughs softly. “Even the candy floss didn’t cheer you up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it kept you awake until all hours of the morning though. You know - sometimes I felt more like I was babysitting than married to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you know how I felt,” she counters, “Cleaning up after you  - every time I’d tidy a room you’d walk through and leave a mess behind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t that bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were.” She narrows her eyes at him. “You used to walk upstairs in your shoes every evening just to annoy me, didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” He feigns innocence - but he’s a fraction too slow for her to miss the flash of amusement across his face first. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew it,” she mutters, and he chuckles, stroking over her belly where his hand lays. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had a good summer,” he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she agrees with a sigh, “We did.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor had spent so long being so, so angry with the Master, so long hurting, her mind tortured with bad memories of the way he’d made her feel at the start of that year here together - the memories more painful now she knew the truth - that she hadn’t spared much thought for the good ones. But she has to admit that Thea had spent far longer being happy here than miserable; he had made her happy. Before tonight, the Doctor hadn’t been able to think on those good memories without feeling hurt and humiliated - she’d believed it all part of his game. Knew somewhere deep down that he probably did let himself get lost in the fantasy somewhere, but she hadn’t let herself entertain the thought that it could be due to him feeling any real love for her and her and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanting </span>
  </em>
  <span>to make her happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, for the first time since coming back to herself she can think back on those memories with a smile instead feeling like she had a knife lodged between her hearts. Thea and Oscar had been happy here together. She and him… the Doctor and the Master.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles wistfully, thinking of another good time. “When we went away for the weekend, to the beach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes,” she can hear the smile in his voice too, “and the weather was awful but you still insisted on wading into the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well we drove all the way down there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was a thunderstorm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just a bit of rain. That huge wave did catch me a bit though, didn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were drowned,” he grins. “I think that couple walking their dog we saw in the beach thought you were mad. I was so embarrassed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You loved it,” she smiles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah… their faces were a picture.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we stayed in that lovely B&amp;B run by that sweet older couple,” she remembers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I had to shove a stocking in your mouth to keep you quiet at night - although I think the creaky bed gave us away anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kicks him under the covers, rolling her eyes with a huff. “Always the sex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, to be fair, we did have a lot of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I suppose we did,” she sighs. “It was funny… I remember being confused by how… intense you were. From Thea’s point of view we’d been married years, it didn’t make sense why you were suddenly all over me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You loved it,” he sighs, like he’s pleased with himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually,” the Doctor can’t help but add, and the Master goes tense against her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He withdraws his hand from her stomach, shifting onto his back, and the Doctor sighs. “I’m sorry.” She reaches into the space between them, lets the back of her hand brush against his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t need to be sorry,” he mumbles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. But I don’t want to bring it up again.” She moves her little finger where their hands rest together, linking it tentatively around his. “Hey, do you remember when you tried to help me bake a cake one weekend? And you got the flour and the baking soda measurements round the wrong way…” Her attempt to draw the conversation back into lighter territory is successful when he lets out a bark of laughter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were furious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well it went all over the oven! And we wasted all those ingredients,” she complains, but she is smiling at the memory. The poor exploded cake everywhere. The Master, flour dusted and frazzled and Mrs Lawrence knocking on their door to ask about the bang she’d heard, her face a picture when she’d seen the state of their kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You started locking the pantry after that,” the Master chuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t be trusted. I made a lock for the oven long before that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She chuckles with him and they fall silent. She fiddles with their linked fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I tried to poison you once.” The Doctor finds herself admitting. “Well - not poison. I put laxatives in your food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” the Master replies again evenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you did. I felt awful after - and you were so sweet to me that evening…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm decided pissing you off that much probably wasn’t the best course of action,” he quips, and she chuckles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you were not afraid of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he agrees, “although I won’t deny there was a moment there before I found out what it was you’d put in those sandwiches that you trying to kill me did cross my mind.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would have deserved it,” she accuses, but her voice is light. “Pulling me over your knee the night before that - I was furious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh you didn’t hate it that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did! It was humiliating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I seem to remember it leading to some very hot sex later than night…” he reminds her as she grumbles. “And besides, you let me do it to you again,” he murmurs, voice low by her ear as an arm snakes around her middle, “begged me, once or twice, if I remember correctly…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor feels her body shiver, and pushes him away with a roll of her eyes, cheeks flushed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let me do it to you a couple of times too,” she is sure to remind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he chuckles. “Who knew Thea’s true skills with a wooden spoon would lie outside the kitchen?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smacks him on the chest, it’s playful but his skin is bare and it still apparently smarts enough for him to give a yelp, rubbing the reddening mark as they laugh together before falling quiet for a minute or so.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Masters fingers dance over her hip, tapping rhythmically on her hipbone in an upbeat pattern that reminds her of a jive. The Doctor smiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember that wedding we went to? Mrs Peter’s son. They had a party in the village hall and we danced and danced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you wore that ridiculous dress with the rainbow round the middle.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her smile widens. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you even find that dress? I’m sure it wasn’t in your closet before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I made it. Well - not made it, I already had the dress, I just… modified it. I added the rainbow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you did,” he sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She thinks fondly back to how O had held her close on the dance floor, remembers leaning up to kiss him and thinking how happy she was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she remembers later that night, when the Master’s rage has reared its ugly head and all that happiness had vanished. She frowns, feeling herself go tense under his touch, and his fingers pause, having obviously felt the change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The atmosphere is suddenly thick and stifling between them, and she hears him swallow, before his hand shifts, lifting to her shoulder and tracing lightly over her skin, giving her the opportunity to bat him away before his fingertips make it across her collarbone and to her throat. They ghost so gently over where he’d touched her so roughly that night. It tickles, but she doesn’t smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor I’m -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t,” she interrupts his apology quietly before it can leave his lips. She turns her head, finding his dark eyes with her own. “Don’t apologise again. I’m glad that happened… you changed after that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns and looks down. “It shouldn’t have taken that for me to realise that what I was doing to you was wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she sighs. “But we can’t go changing it now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he agrees with a sigh of his own, and leans forward, pressing his forehead to her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Carefully, the Doctor lifts a hand to stroke through his hair. It was… strange, to see the Master so truly repentant. It was all she’d wanted for so long. And she had tried so, so hard with his previous self, tried to teach him (her) right from wrong, wanted desperately more than anything for her to be good. So she could maybe love her best friend again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her hearts surge as she looks over at him and her fingers pause in his hair. That wasn’t quite true was it? She had never admitted it to herself before but… perhaps it had always been more so the Doctor didn’t need to feel so guilty for loving the Master anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She lets out a sigh, shifting onto her side. The movement jostles the Master and he looks up, blinking at her as she turns to face him. She settles there, their faces only a little way apart, and smooths a hand over the side of his face before dropping it to the space in the bed between them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” He asks softly, hand going to stroke over her side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor bites her lip in consideration before answering. “You asked me earlier if I loved O and I told you that Thea believed that she did…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” He prompts when she trails off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Thea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels his hand freeze against her, thinks he holds his breath. “Are you saying that you -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was real, that love,” she admits quietly. “As Thea I didn’t feel it to start with - believed in my head that I probably did love my husband - you - but I didn’t feel it, not until things started to change between us. Then, learning it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> all along…” she cuts off with a sigh, traces a finger down over his neck, watching it carefully. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so many mixed feelings about anyone in this universe as you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master doesn’t answer for a moment. “What are you saying?” He finally whispers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m saying it’s… complicated. You were my best friend, my lover… then my enemy -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Occasional lover still, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Well. There was never exactly much love in that, was there? I hated you - still do in some part, you’ve done so many awful, terrible things and I can’t forgive you for all of them. I can’t forgive you for this, not fully.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels the bob of his Adam’s Apple against her fingertips as he swallows hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” he replies quietly. “But…?” He adds, and the hope in his eyes makes her hearts ache.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But…” she sighs. “Some part of me… does love you. Always has.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master exhales; it sounds like a breath he has been holding for a long time, and his body fully relaxes in the bed across from her, his face lightening like a weight has been lifted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor,” he breathes, and she lets him lean in and press a kiss to her lips. It’s brief, and chaste, his lips pressing just lightly against her own before he pulls back, but the Doctor thinks it may be the deepest one they’ve shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hand has slid up her side to cup her ribs, his thumb tracing lightly, absently over the side of her breast, and it is a moment before he speaks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When I realised I loved you,” he finally says, “it wasn’t Thea. I did love Thea too, but only because she was you. You had a nightmare that night…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor frowns. “When?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After we - the wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did I?” He nods and she frowns. “I don’t remember that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I… I went into your mind, I looked, I’m sorry - I only wanted to make it go away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her frown deepens. “You looked at my dreams?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes… you were dreaming that you were trapped, like I’d held you on gallifrey, before I showed you the matrix. But you were still Thea and you were so… </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> scared…” his voice cracks and the Doctor feels her hearts beat fast, almost holding her breath as she listens to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what made me realise… not just that I didn’t want to hurt Thea anymore, but that I'd loved the Doctor all along… ever since we were children. I don’t think I ever stopped.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know what to say to that. Instead she frowns again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have looked at my dreams.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only wanted to help. It’s the only time I did it - well, then, and near the end - but that one was an accident.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyebrows shoot upwards. “How do you accidentally crawl inside somebody’s mind and see their dreams?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has the decency to look guilty, breaking their gaze. “It was after you remembered about the murders… I was going to wipe your memory.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor’s eyes widen. “But… you didn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shakes his head tensely with a frown. “I couldn’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blows out a puff of air. It was so strange to have the Master be so honest and open with her. No tricks, no mind-games. It makes her feel a little off balance - a little dizzy… but she thinks she likes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Keen to steer the conversation back towards happier memories, she gives a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember those winter evenings when we’d light a fire, and lay on the rug in front of it deep into the night, reading that series of old books we found down the market?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The ghost stories,” the Master’s face cracks into a smile too, and the Doctor nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were so good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were,” he agrees. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You always pretended you weren’t spooked by them but you’d always hold me extra tight when we went to bed afterwards those nights,” she finds herself grinning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Only because I didn’t want Thea to feel afraid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah,” she teases, and they fall quiet, both lost in thoughts of their time together as they lay close in the bed they had shared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, the Master speaks again, and his voice is soft; almost tentative - cautious in the quiet dark of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea wanted children.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor inhales sharply, and looks down at his chest as she fiddles, tracing her finger in a mindless pattern over his dark skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she murmurs, “she did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And… you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her finger stops moving, and she lifts her gaze to his. “Oscar wanted them too,” she says instead of answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master frowns. “Oscar was never real. Oscar was always me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor doesn’t answer. It is a strange thought - a little disconcerting even - to think of the Master wanting something as simple and ordinary as a family. She knew he’d had children once, just like she had - but both of them had long left that sort of domesticity behind. She thinks of him, sitting in that armchair of O’s downstairs, a pipe in hand and a small child on his knee as he read out loud from a story book. The image is so sudden and vivid, the Doctor can hardly catch her breath, and has to roll onto her back, pressing her hand to her chest as she gasps in air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” she holds up her other hand to keep him at bay while she pulls herself together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ridiculous. The thought was ridiculous. Lingering fragments of Thea in her brain, of the life she’d dreamed of as her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a long moment of silence as the Doctor gathers her thoughts, the Master speaks again, softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant what I told you before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea would have been a good mother,” he says tentatively, “a wonderful mother…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns, a strange emptiness in her stomach and a twinge between her hearts. “She probably would have, yeah,” she admits quietly after a moment. “But that was never possible anyway, was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was…” she hears him pause, like he’s debating whether he should continue. “A way. One way we could have done it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” she says, and that twinge grows into an ache. She swallows hard. “Yes, I suppose there was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was funny, when the Master had first told her that he’d intended on turning himself human the Doctor had barely even registered his claim - she’d been upset, and furious, her thoughts scattered, convinced the Master had kept her there for a year as some sort of sick joke. She hadn’t believed a word he’d said. She has since come to realise just how honest he was being with her in that moment; turning himself human to live out his life with her as Thea was something he had seriously considered doing. It would have been wrong on so many levels, and she’s glad he came to his senses before he could go through with it but… the fact that he was willing to give up everything - his own immortality - for a simple, short life with her told the Doctor just how deeply his feelings for her ran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We still could.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stops breathing at his words, stares at him with wide eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could have that,” he tells her, “all of it - go back to the Tardis, use the chameleon arch - both of us. Become them for real, take that life as our own, have a family - have everything, you and me -“ All of this rushes out of his mouth so fast it makes the Doctor dizzy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, a frown on her face. “You can’t be serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not?” He sits up, taking her hands. “We could leave everything behind - you said you missed how simple things were - what if that was our whole life?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor stares at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You… you really did want that… didn’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. And we could still have it - we could be happy,” he begs her, “every bad thing we’ve experienced as the Doctor and the Master would just… be gone. A fresh start - weren’t you happier as Thea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I -“ she frowns, sitting up as well, staring down at her hands in his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything would be so much simpler, we could leave everything behind… aren’t you tired? Of life? Of - the unbearable amount of shit our own people have put us through - of everything the universe throws at you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes.” She admits. “But I can’t - I can’t just walk away. From my life - my friends…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have friends here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thea’s friends. The Doctor has friends too - I can’t just abandon them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why not? They always abandon you in the end, don’t they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She frowns, moving to yank her hands from his but he holds tight to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” he says hastily, “I’m sorry, that…. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just mean that - that they always leave, in the end or… something happens, and you’re left alone to go on without them. Aren’t you tired of losing people? Of everyone always leaving?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is speaking so fast the Doctor can hardly think, his words whirling inside her head, making her hearts beat fast and furious in her chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I’ll never leave you. I’ll make you happy,” he vows, an edge of desperation in his pleas, “I’ll give you everything you want - the rest of my life will be yours…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, she gathers her senses, and pulls her hands from his, looking him dead in the eyes. “You’re not thinking clearly,” she says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not. What you’re proposing is… it’s crazy, Master. To give up everything, become humans… we’d have maybe fifty, sixty more years, then that would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>We’d be gone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns. “But aren’t fifty years of happiness worth more than a thousand of uncertainty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t guarantee me that,” she frowns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can -“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t. You wouldn’t even be yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He frowns back at her “Isn’t that the best part?” His dark eyes break the gaze and he looks down. “Isn’t that what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor’s breath catches in her throat, and her chest aches even more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to find words, she shakes her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You loved Oscar,” he continues, “you’ve told me that. And I know you said that a part of you loves me too but that’s all it’s ever going to be, isn’t it? A small part you hate a little… isn’t Oscar who you’d prefer? I can be him - let me be him for you, Doctor, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Hardly able to believe the words coming out of the Master’s mouth, the Doctor blinks and shakes her head again. “We can’t…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can be happy,” he vows again firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks back at him sadly, searching his eyes with her own. “And what happens when Oscar loses his temper with Thea and she doesn’t know how to handle it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She did though,” he protests with a frown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was afraid of him,” the Doctor frowns back. “And you knew that, didn’t you? You can’t tell me that wasn’t a draw of the whole situation. A Doctor who’s finally afraid of the Master.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has the decency to look ashamed, avoiding her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At first, yes. But only at first. And I was getting better,” he finally insists quietly. “You were helping me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” the Doctor sighs, “until the day I can’t. You can’t put that much responsibility on me. On Thea. She’s only human…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master doesn’t answer, and the Doctor suspects he knows she’s right. As the Master, masquerading as O, he had some control over the things he did - a dozen lifetimes worth of dealing with the rage that swirled inside his head. But with that experience gone, and all that fury and trauma packed inside a human brain… he surely knew how dangerous he had the potential to be. To others, to her - to himself, even.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might be better,” he makes one last attempt, looking up at her through pleading eyes. “A clean slate, a fresh start, I might… I might be a better man…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, the Doctor shakes her head. “I can’t take that risk,” she whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master lets out a long breath, and flops down onto his back. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingertips to his forehead like he’s in pain, and the Doctor swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Master,” She begins gently, but he holds up a hand to stop her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it… it’s fine. You’re right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is breathing steady and purposefully, in through his nose, out through his mouth, and the Doctor sits quietly, patiently letting him get control of whatever was swirling furiously in that head of his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a minute or so have passed, he drops his hands and opens his eyes, and they are calm and soft as he reaches up and tugs the Doctor gently to him. She lays down, curling up against his side with her head on his shoulder and her arm across his middle, just like Thea and Oscar had lain so many times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just…” His voice is quiet and hoarse when he speaks, “Just stay here with me a little while longer?” He requests. “Then we can go. I’m sure you’ve… got things you need to get back to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her throat aching a little, the Doctor nods, swallowing down the lump inside it and closing her eyes, inhaling his familiar scent as he holds her so tightly it almost squeezes the air from her lungs. She wouldn’t pull out of his arms in that moment even if it did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s dawn when they pull themselves out of bed and dress silently, backs to each other. The Doctor turns and makes the bed, the moment of deja vu as she fluffs the pillows and places them neatly on top making her feel strange. When she’s done, the Master is waiting by the bedroom door, and holds it open for her, following her silently downstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is your tardis here?” She asks when they get to the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods, motioning to the front door. “Parked just down the street. In that little alleyway by the Fredricks’ at the end.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods back. “Got any plans?” The words feel awkward and forced on her tongue; falsey light, but thankfully, the Master plays along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing in particular,” he shrugs. “You know - same old. I’m sure I can find something to blow up somewhere, a bank to rob, pensioner to push over, you know how it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s joking of course, but the Doctor hears the resignation behind the words and cannot find a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could try being good,” she says instead in a small voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Master shorts. “Tried that once. Didn’t work out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She feels a twang of pain from the mention of that time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You tried it again recently,” she reminds him gently. “Oscar was good…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises an eyebrow. “I murdered a man for his job and the milkman for looking at you. I was holding you prisoner - you said it yourself. Forcing you to -”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” she cuts him off before he can voice it again. She breaks the gaze with a defeated sigh. “I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stand there a moment before the Master clears his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I should go. Don’t want to be late for work,” he adds, and the Doctor finally finds a smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She follows him to the front door and lingers there as he opens it and steps outside before turning to face her, looking out at him from the threshold just like Thea had countless times before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a good day darling,” the Doctor says softly, playing the part, and a smile tugs at the corners of the Master’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be home in time for tea,” he replies, and she leans back against the door frame, lets him step in and kiss her goodbye, his lips soft against her own, hand warm on her face. He leans his forehead against hers when he breaks the kiss, both of them sharing the same air for a few moments before he pulls himself away, stepping back and pasting a light expression on his face. He is not quick enough for her to miss the flash of deep pain across his features, and the Doctor expects her own face matches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In another life, maybe,” the Master says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Doctor manages a small, sad smile. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stare at each other for a moment before the Master breaks into a grin. “Luckily we both have plenty of those,” he says and the Doctor chuckles, shaking her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hold the gaze for a moment, before the Master breaks it; ripping himself away, she realises, before it becomes too impossible a feat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turns on the step, half facing her as he starts to move down the garden path. “I’ll see you around.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words are light, and the Doctor musters up a smile and a nod; a charade they are both keeping up, until he turns from her, and finally she can let the mask fall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In another life,” she repeats quietly, and watches Oscar and the Master walk away. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The end. We’ve made it!<br/>I really really really hope this ending wasn’t disappointing to anyone… I know there were those of you rooting for them to end up together but I just couldn’t let it finish that way. I don’t believe the Doctor would fully be able to forgive the Master enough for her to want to be in an actual relationship with him after what he did to her. And honestly it wouldn’t have been right. But I’m very very anxious to hear your thoughts!!<br/>I have so much I want to say and so much thanks is owed to all of you my wonderful amazing readers who’ve kept me going through some tricky times but I’m going to save that for a thread on twitter I’ll be posting later today (you can follow me @spoilersweetfic if you’re not already) for here, that’s all. Just thank you so much for every single comment and kudos and hit on this story, it’s meant the absolute world, and I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have writing it ❤️❤️❤️</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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